This May Only Be Deemed Inappropriate
by TinyLaments
Summary: "Do you have a death wish, Miss Yukihira? I suggest you refrain from further involving yourself with my extracurricular affairs. You will soon rue the moment you announced your existence to me." Mikan Yukihira attends the renowned Alice University of Tokyo with her best friend Sumire Shouda. Difficult, exhausting, and boring? Not quite the college life she expected. FPPOV.
1. Jesus, She's A Teacher?

**I: Jesus, She's A Teacher?**

 **-x-**

"Still tailoring that gown of yours, _Your Highness_?"

"Just a sec. I'll be out in a jiffy," I shouted back. I was currently applying mascara while watching the battle ensue between a plaid low cut Armani dress and a sleeveless olive green Gucci jumpsuit when Permy came banging on my closet door. Honestly, that girl needs to chill. It's not like we're going to be late or anything, I think. My deliberation ended as I finished putting on lipgloss and I settled for a peach-colored maxi, one of my mother's designs.

"Your 'sec' ended ages ago," Permy hissed as she burst into the room. "Mikan Yukihira, move your ass if you don't want to get stuck in traffic." She took me by the wrist and literally dragged me out. Luckily for me, I managed to grab a pair of sandals before she whisked me away. By golly. My hair's not done yet! I complained about my tresses all the way to the limo, annoying the hell out of her.

She rolled her eyes at me and told me to just let my hair down. "Believe me, you look prettier that way," she said as we got into the vehicle. I stopped my ponytail-tying attempts and proceeded to brushing my hair, eyes still resting on the girl beside me. Strangely enough, Permy's outfit was rather tame, I mean not as...flamboyant as her other ensembles. "Ever so fashion-forward, Permy," I commented on her leopard print garment. She rewarded me with a smile and a flip of the perms that dangled on each side of her face.

My best friend is an aspiring fashion designer and well, an avid fan of my mother. While being one with no stomach for publicity and the limelight, Mom isn't the slightest bit bothered by the attention she was receiving from Sumire. Apparently, Permy's got 'raw talent' and an 'admirable eccentricity,' which Mom approves of and applauds. I'm quite glad the Yukihira matriarch isn't pressuring me to follow in her footsteps; Dad isn't forcing me to be like him, either. My parents have instilled in my mind that I pursue what I truly desire. "Your father and I don't want you to live your life halfheartedly," she said during that career day back in high school.

The limo came to a halt. "Out, out. Chop chop! Hurry, the Freshman Assembly's about to start," Permy pushed me out of the car. I stepped on the hem of my skirt and almost ripped the dress and she just laughed. "Trust Mikan to forever be a klutz." I playfully punched her arm. We slung our bags over our shoulders and made our way to the auditorium.

"Dear freshmen," bellowed the cheerful emcee. I couldn't quite discern his gender due to his hair length and the excessive ruffles decorating his maroon pantsuit. "You bid farewell to the drama that was high school, and now are about to enter a whole new world. They say high school's the best years of one's student life." A dramatic pause and a quick wink to no one in particular. That action, along with his frivolous garb, made me formulate two postulates: a) This person was an attention-craving, crossdressing flirt; and b) He was hands down gay.

Permy nudged my rib. Judging from her expression, she must have been trying to decipher the person on stage. "He's so totally gay," she whispered in my ear. I giggled in agreement.

"I beg to differ," he continued. Permy and I scoffed at what seemed to be his denial of our accusation. "College is more challenging, more demanding, but definitely interesting. If you please, you may think of it as trying on a new pair of pants. Or purchasing a new gadget. Welcome and embrace it, just as it does you. I do wish all of you a happy and fulfilling stay here. Again, welcome to Alice University."

The audience applauded. Suddenly, the lights went out and fog engulfed the venue. An ominous hum erupted from the speakers, completely scaring the bejesus outta me. If there's one thing that terrifies me the most, it's eerie, disturbing noises in the darkness.

"And now," the gay emcee's voice boomed, "to close this opening ceremony, Alice University presents...Renegade!"

A familiar, catchy tune started playing and LED fixtures illuminated the stage, their lights changing from red to blue, to purple, to green, then back. From out of nowhere, three masked figures appeared on the elevated platform. Ten more entered the spotlight, five from either side of the stage, each one rolling, cartwheeling, or backflipping, plainly avoiding any conventional form of locomotion. I was unconsciously tapping my foot on the floor. At my peripherals, I can see Permy bobbing her head in sync to the beat. We were squeezing each other's hands and I could tell that she was really excited. I was, too.

On the stage, the guy in the red and black mask, whom I assumed to be the leader/front man or something, moved toward the curtains. He performed a series of somersaults, twirling gracefully in the air before landing perfectly in the middle of the dancers' circular formation. They scattered like pins struck by a bowling ball.

Then there's that screechy noise you hear when the DJ does his thing with the discs. The tempo is much faster now. Contorting and bending like that, the dancers almost seemed boneless. I cringed inwardly but am impressed by the sight. I admired their flexibility, that complete control over their bodies. I was so caught up in my amazement I didn't realize their performance was over. As soon as the music died, the members of Renegade tore the masks off their faces and tossed them to the audience. The crowd was ballistic. Claps, whistles, howls, screams, and all vocal expressions of shock and awe echoed throughout the auditorium. It was deafening.

"Oh my—sweet niblets! Mikan, Mikan, ohmyfuckinggod." Permy grabbed my shoulders and shook me as though her life depended on it. "Is this for real? Or did the valkyries swoop down and take me to Valhalla?"

I had to agree with her. They were dropdead gorgeous. Okay, maybe not all of them. "Relax, Permy. We are, unfortunately, stuck on earth," I replied.

Under normal lighting, I can clearly see their clean-shaven faces and well-toned bodies. Each of them were good-looking in their own right; some had pale skin, others slightly tan, and two were chocolate brown. Their eye colors were as diverse as their hair's. A few had specific defining features, such as moles, a star tattoo, close-set eyes, thick eyebrows, prominent cheek bones, and a high, narrow nose that screamed 'downright Caucasian.' What really caught my attention was a pair of crimson eyes, which so happened to belong to the leader/front man. They were burning, gleaming like polished jewels. You know those huge, shiny red buttons that you're never, ever supposed to press, regardless of the circumstances? I suddenly felt like that dimwitted DeeDee from Dexter's Laboratory. Not wanting to be misunderstood as some kind of stalker or fan girl, I broke my stare. Perhaps a little too late. Before I took my eyes off him, I glimpsed him smirking. AT ME.

"Hel-loooo. Earth to Mikan." It took me a few moments to notice Permy's hand in front of my face. She snapped her fingers. "Mikan Yukihara, are you with me? Come on, everybody's leaving," she beckoned.

"Holy crap. Let's go." In haste, I followed Permy towards the exit. We had to trudge through scraps of paper (probably remnants of banners, courtesy of die-hard fans), food wrappers, and styrofoam cups. How infuriating. Is it too much trouble to dispose of your garbage properly?

We were blinking rapidly when we got out. I should've brought my shades, I mused as Permy slid Dior aviators over her eyes. She threw me a quizzical look, most likely noticing me squinting at the sudden brightness. "That reminds me," she began. "Earlier, you were stuck in some kind of trance."

"Uh...what—yeah, I guess. Sleep deprivation, probably."

Her lips curved into a sly grin. "Pish posh. It was him, wasn't it? You were having a staring contest with that Renegade guy," she teased.

"Well, red is not exactly a common eye color. I was curious. Can't you give your inquisitive friend a break?"

"All right, I rest my case. Why are you blushing?"

I was flushing hotly. Why indeed? "That's not it. Too much rouge thanks to your interruption this morning," I shot back, ignoring the heat on my cheeks.

"Dearie, your face could put his blood red rubies to shame. You're redder than the reddest of red MAC lipsticks."

"Oh stop. Aren't we late or something? You'll be nagging me about it for the next 12 hours if you incur tardiness on your first day at uni."

To that, she grinned yet again, but didn't push the issue anymore. After a few more minutes, we parted ways; she to the Fine Arts building, and myself to the Institute of Mathematics. The knowledge of not attending classes with my best friend saddened me greatly, but it was inevitable. Our degree curricula were very different, although we may opt to take the same General Education courses, if only to be together. I sighed. At least our breaktimes coincided and we could still hang out.

A good ten yards stretched between me and the Mathematics building. I glanced at my watch, and slackened my pace. I fished my planner out of my bag and scanned my schedule. Preoccupied by the numbers and letters on the paper, I found myself colliding with a black-clothed figure and falling to the ground.

"I'm really sorry. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

"Clearly," the stranger drawled. "Make good use of the benefits of bipedalism; look forward when you walk." She extended a pale hand, which I gladly accepted. As I regained my posture, my eyes trailed up her arm and unto her face. A doll. That was the first word that came to mind. Short, jet-black locks barely sweeping past her shoulders framed her elegant visage. Her creamy white skin was flawless, smooth like alabaster, although I dare not touch. Imagine how awkward that would be. She had a shapely jaw and slightly protruding cheek bones, which in my opinion, would become more noticeable if she were to smile. However, smile she did not. Her inscrutable countenance which was the epitome of indifference, combined with the earlier-mentioned facial features further enhanced her resemblance to those porcelain figurines.

Here I am again observing peculiar pupils. What is with these people and their eye colors? Hers were a shade of purple, somewhat flitting between lavender and grey. They were far from warm and welcoming, but they harbored no resentment or anger. Empty. Cold. Apart from their color, those particular qualities, if anything, intrigued me even more. As if she weren't already mysterious to begin with.

I wondered how long I have been staring at her. "Again, I apologize." I bend into a right angle, conveniently avoiding that chilling gaze.

"Lift your head up." And without another word, she walked away.

What a strange girl. I dusted off my skirt, still pondering those cold amethyst orbs that burned themselves into my memory. I finally reached my destination. I occupied a seat two rows away from the teacher's table and adjacent to the window. Students began filling the other desks. Two minutes later, a tall, slender man entered. He introduced himself as Professor Jinno. He certainly looked the part of your average strict but brilliant terror professor, with his choice of clothing, thinly-rimmed spectacles, and a magic wand-like pointer. He turned out just as I have expected. We had a brief review on the Cartesian coordinate system before proceeding to the lesson proper. A grueling homework on polynomials was the icing on the cake. Many of my classmates were grumbling after Professor Jinno dismissed us.

Next was Political Science. I had to take a ten-minute stroll to get to this class, as the building was quite far. When I got there, the teacher was already seated at his table. He was fiddling with his Blackberry, obviously irritated, if the twist of his mouth was anything to go by. His manner of dressing baffled me a bit, but then again, to each his own. I snickered at the thought of me becoming a fashion critic. Permy would have appreciated the amount of leather that the man was sporting. Leather trenchcoat, leather gloves, and leather high-heeled shoes. I wasn't sure about his trousers. If the violet-eyed woman I bumped into was pale, this fellow was ghastly. Also, I think he wore more makeup than I did.

"Political Science 117: Political Analysis. I am Professor Rei Serio," announced the professor. His voice was...how do I put this? Silky? Seductive? I hated to admit it but it was pleasing to the ears. "It has come to my understanding that not everyone in this class is a Political Science major. Nevertheless, I guarantee that taking this course is worthwhile. Nobara, if you please," he called out to an unseen person. A woman with icy blue hair and eyes stepped into the room.

"This is my TA, Nobara Ibaragi," Professor Serio gestured at the woman. "As you all know, she will be facilitating this course in my absence. Should you have any inquiries regarding the discussion, you may direct them to her. She is very capable educator, despite her age." The TA bowed meekly and handed the professor a thick envelope. Before anything else, we had a pop quiz regarding the government and politics of Japan. For the love of god. History was never my cup of tea. Too many dates, places, people, events, and other things of the past. Too much information.

"...clans, namely Fujiwara, Shouda, Imai, Hyuuga, Yukihira, and Hijiri." I wasn't really minding the content of his discussion, blissfully tuning in to that sinful baritone of his. That was until he eyed me while mentioning my surname. He droned on monopolistic capitalism, the unbridgeable gap between the wealthy and the impoverished, and the prideful indifference of the elite. Conspiracies. The new order. So he has a problem with influential families interacting? The way I see it, we're simply supporting one another, bonds not limited to business arrangements. Case in point, Permy and myself. Speaking of which, I could hardly wait for this class to end so I could eat lunch with my best friend. Another painful half hour of pointed words and glares and I was finally out of that torture chamber he calls 'class.'

At the cafeteria, Permy merely laughed at my misfortune. "His pants were probably leather, too," she pointed out. "I suppose that deathly pale complexion may explain it, I mean, he's probably sick or something. Leather is an excellent protective covering against cold temperatures."

I swallowed another spoonful of my parmigiana. "Really now? Some resentful gothic/emo guy despises your best friend for being a Yukihira, and your primary concern is whether or not his pants were made of cattle hide?"

"For all we know, it could've been crocodile skin." She chuckled and took a bite of her Panini. "Jealousy," she spoke in a more serious tone. "It's only natural for one to envy those leading successful lives, especially if that person's plans didn't pan out the way he originally intended them to."

"True that. So how was the first half of your first day?"

"It was splendid. Earlier, in art class, we were each assigned a partner. Instructions were to create a portrait of our partners using any medium of our choosing. I went with charcoal."

"Okay? And…?"

"I got paired up with a prince."

"What?"

"Remember Renegade from the Freshman Assembly?" I nodded. "He's one of them. Blonde, blue eyes, half-French."

"Ooh, the one with the artfully-sculpted nose?"

"That's the one. I told him the exact same thing. He thanked me for the compliment and said he inherited it from his mother."

"Did you successfully mimic his chiseled features with your charcoal?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Heh. Overconfident Picasso wannabe." I chucked a jellybean at her nose.

She stuck her tongue out. "He called my drawing phenomenal. He was a decent artist himself. He illustrated me in beeswax."

"Hmm. Sounds narcissistic."

"I'll have you swallowing those words when I introduce him. He's very gentlemanly."

"I look forward to that." I smirked. "So what's his name? How far have you gotten? Did he ask you out? Details, Permy, details."

I swore she did an eyeroll, but I was too happy and thrilled to care. "Hold your horses, sweetie. We exchanged phone numbers. Name's Luca Nogi. And…oh. He just shot me a text," she pushed her phone across the table to show me, "asking if I'd be willing to…share...a coffee with him some time?"

"That sounds great! What are you gonna tell him? You're not going to decline, are you? Wait, why do I even bother asking? Of course you're not. You're SO going out with him."

"It's only coffee. Better not get our hopes up." She says that but her appearance told me otherwise; she was all mushy and giddy on the inside. The smile creeping up my face can no longer be stifled. "Gosh, stop raising my expectations. I might end up getting disappointed," she added.

I downed the last of my strawberry milkshake. "Just tell me if he pulls something funny. Or even tries. Prince or Renegade or whatever, he can't hurt you. He can't make you cry, or mistreat you in any way. I won't allow it."

She clucked her tongue. "Mikan, you're overthinking. Again, it's only coffee. No need to make mountains out of molehills."

"Aye aye, cap'n."

"Shall we get going then? It's already a quarter hour to one, and the School of Architecture is miles away."

I was alone again. I consulted my schedule. Economics. Holy guacamole. The blasted building is located on the opposite side of the university! I cursed silently as I thumbed through the pamphlet that was issued to me during the assembly this morning. Apparently, Alice University has a high-speed railway system that spans its entire 4751 acre property. They also had tubes. There were at least twenty different bus lines meticulously laid down in a circuitous manner. All these series of transportation routes could rival the convoluted lines on the road maps of Japan. Expect nothing less from the country's premiere university. To be able to afford such structures and services, this institution must have some massive benefactors.

I boarded the train at 12:51 and got off at Station 6, situated right across the School of Economics. With a total disregard for my clothing and slightly tousled hair, I broke into a sprint, seeing that I had only two minutes before the clock struck one. My breathing became labored by the time I hopped into the elevator. The doors slammed shut with a quarter yard of my dress stuck between them. Great. I totally needed that.

The passengers cast their eyes upon the panting girl whose lower half remained attached to the metal doors, a.k.a. me. Some were obviously trying to suppress their laughter. A few spoke in hushed tones, whispering along the lines of 'Is she okay,' 'What is wrong with her,' and 'She's probably a freshman.' God why. I must have looked completely and utterly ridiculous. I abandoned all efforts to yank the fabric from the cursed slabs of metal and waited for the doors to open on the fifth floor.

I scurried toward the assigned classroom, which thankfully contained no more than five students. Choosing a seat at the back of the classroom, I deposited my belongings and sped to the restroom with my personal effects kit.

I frowned at my disheveled appearance. My nape and forehead were drenched in perspiration. My auburn hair was a cornfield after a hurricane. "What a day," I sighed at my reflection. I dabbed my face with Kleenex, stripping it of all makeup and sweat and other entities that stuck to it. Screw foundation and eye shadow. I'm going au naturel. I hurriedly ran the comb through my hair. Yup, I think I'm good. I smiled at the woman in the mirror and strutted back to class.

The number of students increased by a factor of five, I gleaned as I made my way to the room. I shifted my gaze to my aching feet. Ah, blisters. And bam! I slammed into yet another person's frame. How ditzy of me. I guess I truly am the klutz Permy claims me to be.

"You must find the ground very fascinating." That cold, bored voice. It was the porcelain doll at the Math building!

Another mental stream of expletives. She helped me to my feet. AGAIN. Embarrassed as I may have been, I had the courage to raise my head and level my eyes with hers. Her face was expressionless as usual, her exquisite features still as marble. I didn't notice during our first collision that she was wearing black leather overalls that stretched down to her ankles, a garment I recognized to be one of my mother's pieces. She towered almost a foot over me thanks to her Louboutin booties. She's probably 5'6" or something, so even without the heels, she was still taller than I am.

"I'm really sorry. Again. I should've heeded your advice. I'm sorry."

She remained silent and gave me a slight nod. I retreated to the classroom, unwilling to risk humiliating myself in front of her for the third time. I thought I'd never cross paths with her again. Wrong.

Heads spun and murmurs erupted as Amethsyt Eyes graced the door.

"Oi, isn't that—"

"Yeah, the young genius-slash-inventor."

"She's gonna be our classmate?"

"Eh? Isn't she done with school?"

She stood in front of the whiteboard and cleared her throat, causing the room to go silent. "Good afternoon. I see most of you already know who I am. For those unaware, I am Hotaru Imai, your instructor for Macroeconomics."


	2. OH, He Did Not Just—

**Author's note:**

I forgot about the whole disclaimer thing in my first chapter. Now disclaiming. Gakuen Alice is not mine in any bloody way. I wouldn't be doing this (writing a fanfic) if it were. :)

I'm not sure about the FPPOV. In hindsight, it's rather difficult to pull off. Should I continue, or should I change to omniscient? I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Thank you.

* * *

 **II: OH, He Did Not Just—**

 _She stood in front of the whiteboard and cleared her throat, causing the room to go silent. "Good afternoon. I see most of you already know who I am. For those unaware, I am Hotaru Imai, your instructor for Macroeconomics."_

 **-x-**

Goosebumps prickled my skin. Every utterance from those pale pink lips ripped through my flesh like the blistering Siberian wind. Her manner of handling the lesson was very impersonal, detached, but nonetheless professional. Despite the glaring absence of intonation in her voice, she had my undivided attention. I was committing each word to memory, digesting each syllable— I was actually listening.

I have heard of her and her achievements before, but the knowledge was of trivial relevance to me, as my interests lie in well, things that people my age typically prioritize. A staggering IQ of 320, innovator, inventor, the youngest of the Imai clan took the world by storm at a precocious age of 8 with an advanced machinery...I don't remember what it was exactly. I'm pretty sure it was some kind of lethal weapon. Since then, various international corporations, research labs, business tycoons, and even terrorist organizations have been hounding her to work for them. Piecing together the fragments information from my classmate's unintelligible mutterings, I've gleaned that she had accomplished more than I have despite our 9-month age difference. She's only 17, for crying out loud!

I could not but feel inferior. My eyes move up to the writing on the board, and then to the stoic woman behind the teacher's table. She was reading a copy of _Particle Physics._ Hold on. If she's 'done with school,' like one of my classmates claimed, what is she doing here? And economics, of all things?

"Two minutes," she said without glancing up from the publication.

Oh crap. I postponed all my speculation and focused on my half-finished essay. A little more proofreading here, tiny revisions there, and it was done. She instructed us to pass our papers forward. For a brief moment, her amethyst pools seized my hazel ones, unnecessarily reminding me of my earlier blunders. Swallowing thickly, I averted my gaze to my notebooks and stuffed them into my bag. When I rose from my chair to leave, she was nowhere to be seen.

I walked down the hallway, chin held high this time. Benefits of bipedalism, huh? My mobile rang.

"Oh, hey, Permy. What's up?"

According to my beloved Permy, her section for English class, VW-6420, was dissolved due to _undivulged_ circumstances. In a stroke of luck, she got transferred to my section.

"Cool! I guess I'll be seeing you sooner than expected," I happily exclaimed.

"En route to English department now. Smell you later, alligator. Toodles!"

"Love you, too, Permy!"

Returning my phone to my bag, I spotted a vending machine in the second floor and decided to heed the wishes of my grumbling stomach. I was mulling over a pack of Doritos when something pushed me. I found myself pressed against the metal buttons.

"What the hell?!" I shouted angrily as the machine processed my purchase. "What the hell am I supposed to do with _Sizzling Hot Curry_?"

Gripping the can of spicy beverage, I spun to face the offender. Small world. If it isn't Mr. Renegade.

Seemingly oblivious to my outburst, he glared at me. The nerve of this impudent jerk! He then snapped his head toward the two scantily-clad women canoodling him. A third was sprawled on the floor not so far from where I was standing. His sculpted eyebrow twitched in obvious irritation.

"Natsume-sama...!" the bimbos chorused.

Seriously? How did _these_ women get admitted to the university? I thought darkly. My mirth did not change the fact that I was still enraged by his transgression. I playfully flipped the _Sizzling Hot Curry_ in my hand and aimed it at his beautiful head. Bullseye. The can bounced off his skull, and kissed the floor with a metallic clang.

He mechanically turned in my direction, his smoldering crimson eyes burning with ire. I folded my arms over my chest and defiantly met his glare. I'm not letting some asshole intimidate me.

"You did this?!"

I cocked a brow at him. "What of it?"

"Do you _realize_ what you've done?" he growled. It was almost animalistic, so feral, and hot. That rasp, those fiery irises, the terseness of his facial muscles—it was SPICY, fitting for the intriguing red that was his eyes. Holy crap on a cracker! I did NOT just think that. Maybe I was just craving for curry.

"Revenge. Thanks to your frigging huge hands, I ended up buying that...thing," I pointed at the cylindrical container, which was now in his possession.

"Ever heard of the term 'accident,' you brainless Hercules?"

"'Accident' does not equal being forced to buy canned curry." I was close to ripping my hair out in frustration. "If for just one second you stop dangling meat in front of those rabid bitches, maybe they'll quit pestering you. You don't even have the decency to apologize."

Rolling his eyes, he brushed his fingers across his raven mane and snorted. "Are you telling me to apologize for being ravishing?"

Egotistical bastard. Yes, he was breathtakingly, panty-droppingly handsome, but I was not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I find him attractive. NO. Not a chance. "Is your neck not growing stiff yet? I'm surprised you can still pull off those dance routines, considering what a _burdensome_ load you're carrying."

Another derisive snort in response.

"Oh, you owe me a bag of Doritos, jerk." With that said, I continued my journey toward the stairs.

"Hey, bitch," two voices called out. They were obviously not contented with referring to me as a female dog. One grabbed my dress while the other tugged a fistful of my hair so hard she may as well have uprooted it. I balled up my fists and met the scowling faces of the duo.

"Don't you know who he is? You must be really stupid not to recognize him in the presence of his glory."

"Be grateful for his kindness, ignorant freshman. Such insolence towards Natsume-sama should be rewarded with grave punishment." Hah, kindness? Are you shitting me? He has been nothing but a rude, pompous brat since I had the cruel fate of meeting him. With my free arm, I slapped the hand entangled with my locks.

"I don't care if he's Chuck Norris or the President of the United States. That doesn't give him the right to treat others like trash. In fact, nothing does. And I'm not just talking about that bout of arrogance earlier." I exhaled as their hands _finally_ left me. "If you insist on playing the part of obedient mongrels, you can't possibly epect any humane treatment from him. Instead of spending your days worshiping someone who is _clearly_ repulsed by your affections, why don't you two act like the upperclassmen you're supposed to be? Because newsflash! This isn't high school. 'Just getting by' won't cut it."

I walked away from them, but not without paying Mr. Renegade a quick parting glance. I caught an amused expression on his face, similar to the one he wore back in the auditorium. Smirking, he brought the can to his lips. He was guzzling that _Sizzling Hot Curry_.

* * *

My reunion with Permy was supposed be a joyous happening. Someone just _had_ to butt in.

"I take it you're Ms. Mikan Yukihira. Sumire-san has told me a great deal about you. I'm Luca Nogi. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

What a well-mannered chap. Nice catch, Permy! Unlike certain people...why am I thinking about _him_ at a time like this? Better yet, why am I thinking about him AT ALL?

I accepted his hearty handshake. "Likewise, Nogi-san. Your performance was amazing, by the way."

"Thank you, Yukihira-san." Subtle patches of pink dotted his cheeks as his steel grey eyes darted from me to Permy. He smiled like an embarrassed toddler. How adorable! I was squealing internally for my best friend.

"Mikan," I offered. "Yukihira-san is too formal. You can call me by my first name."

"Very well then, Mikan-san. If that's the case, do address me as Luca."

The three of us sat at the very back of the classroom, with Permy seated between me and Luca. I pinched Permy's hand, which was conveniently placed on top of her table.

"What," she whispered rather irritatedly. She looked over her shoulder and at Luca whose eyes were nailed to the door, seemingly expecting someone's arrival.

"I take it back. I still have my misgivings of course—but he's perfect!" I almost said the last part in a normal volume, forcing Permy to clamp a hand over my mouth. She was blushing madly. Wow. I've never seen her turn this shade before. Even when embarrassed, Sumire Shouda did not turn beet red; she limited it to rosy pink. She shot me a death glare. Words were unnecessary. _That_ was more than enough to silence me. Believe me, you do not want a pissed off Permy. I, despite being the most beloved of her acquaintances a.k.a. her BFF, am not an exception to her wrath. That said, I know she still loves me to pieces.

I was about to regale her with the tale of "The Insufferable Red-Eyed Bastard From Hell" when…

"Natsume."

We turned our attention to Luca and the newcomer. I could've murdered Permy's hand with all my squeezing.

"Fancy meeting you here," he greeted.

"You—"

"...loudmouthed—"

"...obnoxious—"

"...condescending—"

"...egotistical—"

"...temperamental—"

"...heartless—"

"...wench."

"...whoremonger."

Luca and Permy were practically laughing their heads off. "I see you two already met. Even so, I'd like to introduce you. Sumire-san, Mikan-san, this is my best friend, Natsume Hyuuga."

Natsume freaking _Hyuuga_. Well that explains the over-inflated ego, the overbearing aura of a tyrant, the killer good looks...typical of the opulent Hyuugas. No, I'm not generalizing or anything. Aunt Kaoru is such a delight! Even with their immense wealth, she never acted like she descended from the heavens to look upon some filthy, unworthy mortals. So _this_ is her son. I can only imagine her pain.

"Mikan, huh." Hyuuga seemed to be tasting my name on his tongue. "Just like your perfume."

"What? When did you—you creep!"

"I have a keen sense of smell."

"Great! You'd fit perfectly in a bomb squad. You know, where you can _actually help_ people."

"If your intention is to allure men with your citrus scent, you're doing a terrible job at it. Unless, of course, I'm the only one you want smelling it." The bastard smirked. Unbelievable.

"In short, put on more perfume," Permy snickered and chimed in. And I thought you were my best friend!

"Whose side are you on?"

"Hyuuga has a point."

"Ugh. You're not helping."

All the bickering ceased as an effeminate blonde dressed in a frilly purple suit waltzed into the room with a cheery greeting upon his lips. Ah, the gay emcee. Permy and I looked at each other as the man removed his beret and sketched a graceful bow. "Narumi Anju, at your service," he announced.

I let out an exasperated sigh. A number of our female classmates were already swooning over our teacher. One even fainted. The males, on the other hand, received him with mixed emotions. Admiration was apparent in the eyes of those who simply smiled at his display. Those who were irritated mumbled and groaned, threatened by the man's charms, most like. Only the four of us, it would appear, were unaffected. Luca, Permy, myself, and Hyuuga.

"All right, class. On to our first activity," said Professor Narumi. "Grab a partner, everyone."

Permy and I instantly took each other's hands. Our merry little dance, however, was ruined by the next statement. "Your partner must be of the opposite sex."

"I'm sorry, Mikan-san," Luca smiled apologetically as he stole my best friend's hand from me. "Mind if I borrow her for a while?"

"So long as you return her to me in one piece." Permy made no sound of agreement or protestation. She was absolutely dazed. Traitor! I pouted childishly but I was really happy for her. For them. That was until I felt Hyuuga's death grip on my wrist. Permy, come back, I wanted to scream.

"Will you stop harassing me?" I inquired sharply, attempting to disentangle myself from his frigging huge fingers.

"We're supposed to work in pairs," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Why me? There are many out there willing to work with you." To testify to my claim, women stared in our direction, gradually inching closer and flocking around our table. Talk about suffocating.

"Look, I want to make it out of this class alive and not covered in dog slobber. Aside from Luca's girl, you're the only one…tolerable."

I rolled my eyes at him and murmured my consent. "Fine, you start."

"My name is Natsume Hyuuga. Eighteen. Leader of Renegade."

"Well?"

"Your turn."

"That's hardly anything. I can easily google those."

He stubbornly sat in silence, his stern expression unchanging.

"Mikan Yukihira. Eighteen years old. Freshman, Business. I'm the daughter of Izumi Yukihira and Yuka Azumi. My best friend is Sumire Shouda, who is currently working with _your_ best friend. As you already know, I wear fruit-scented perfumes. Citrus is my favorite."

"So you're old man Izumi's heir. I pity the man."

"He's not that ol—What did you just say?"

"Can't imagine someone like you running Yukihira Inc.," he replied with a smug smile. He smiled? What. The. Hell. I don't freaking care!

"Hmph. FYI, I'm a very responsible person." Well, kinda. Okay, maybe not really. But I sure as hell am not one to raze my father's company to the ground.

"Freshman, Business," he deadpanned. "Like you, expectations of me are high. As the Hyuuga heir." His voice dripped with venom as he _spat_ his own family name. Against my raging curiosity, I ignored that observation for the time being. I'll reserve that for later, when we get past the acquaintance stage. Assuming we'd even get there.

"Oh. Likes and dislikes?"

He muttered _'Stupid gay sensei'_ under his breath. "Fuck this slumbook activity. Listen, girl, there are countless things that I dislike, and far fewer that I tolerate. First is coercion. I hate being told what to do."

"O-kay." Sheesh. Grumpy, are we? "Hmm…are you older than I am? My birthday's on January 1."

"November 27. Do the math."

"Hah! You're older. My favorite color is orange. What's yours?"

"Red."

"Favorite food?"

"Depends on what you're asking."

"Dessert?"

"Don't have one."

"Impossible. There must be something you find _tolerable._ "

"Tch." His eyes drifted to the window, a faraway look on his face as he stared into the distance. A wan smile graced his lips and it was gone as soon as it appeared. "...dark chocolate." That tiny speck of melancholy vanished from his eyes and was replaced by his usual indifference.

"That's it then! Mine's…ooh, this one's tough. Howalon, or strawberry parfait?"

"Pig," he scoffed. "I don't know about the first one, but those are sickeningly sweet."

I suppressed the urge to kick him in the gut for that insult. "You don't know Howalons? Oh, poor dear, you've been missing out on a lot."

"I dislike sweets."

"Whatever. Howalons are heavenly spheres of pure fluffy, milky goodness. They're like clouds, except they're not made of water." I shoved my phone in his face to show him the picture.

"Anna's. I remember," he drawled.

"You know Anna Umenomiya?"

"Hn."

"That cousin of mine made me eat one of those disgusting fluff puffs," he added. "She and her devil of a best friend Ogosawara."

"Cousin? How in Merlin's beard is sweet, compassionate Anna related to you?"

"People marry people, idiot."

Okay, point. Before I could retort, Professor Narumi called our names, demanding us to occupy the space between the first line of chairs and the whiteboard. Hyuuga sauntered towards the front, oozing confidence and with every strut, much to his admirers' pleasure.

"This is Mikan Yukihira," he languidly lifted a finger at me, "a Business freshman. She was born on the first of January 1997. She has an obsession with sweets, specifically Howalon. Her gluttony, however, has never rendered her overweight or obese due to her fast metabolism." Women groaned in envy at this. I wanted to punch him for associating me with that particular member of the seven deadly sins.

"She has a penchant for oranges, as she likes the smell of citruses, favors the color orange, and _adores_ polka-dotted prints," he continued. I mouthed _'how dare you.'_ He responded with a knowing smirk. I thought he was through embarrassing me with that lousy introduction when he said, "She thinks Renegade is amazing."

"Who doesn't?" the class shouted back.

Mortifying. Absolutely mortifying. Now I sound like one of those lovesick fan girls. I trembled slightly, aching to rip his tongue out and make him withdraw that last remark. But alas, all was said and done. It was my turn to do the talking.

"This is Natsume Hyuuga, the future CEO of Hyuuga Industries," I said smoothly. He was practically singeing me with those crimson eyes, intimidating me with a look that screamed _'you did not just do that.'_ He wasn't comfortable with discussing the subject, that much I knew. Tough luck, Hyuuga. Yes, payback's a bitch.

"His name is reminiscent of warm, carefree afternoons, campfires under the stars, and the buzz of dragonflies, but he certainly wasn't a child of summer. His birthday is in November, on the 27th, to be exact. There aren't many things he likes, but he did mention a few of them, such as dark chocolate, the color red, and _Sizzling Hot Curry_. He dislikes sweets, and frankly, I can't say I'm surprised. He's eighteen, by the way."

A long stream of introductions followed ours, none of which I really paid attention to as boredom and exhaustion began to eat me up. Permy yawned while lazily playing with my fingers. Professor Narumi enthusiastically bade goodbye, seemingly forgetting that he was going to meet his beloved class again two days from now. Overly-attached fool.

"Permy."

"Mm-hm?"

"I'm hungry. Let's go home."

"Glutton. Already called Rob. He'll be here in five."

Just then, something crashed into my face. Something soft and smooth that crackled noisily with every move. I picked up the offending object. A bag of Doritos. The jackass who threw it was leaning against the doorframe, thumbs in his pockets and eyes riveted on me. "I figured you might want that, pig."

"Thanks, jerk," I replied, smiling in satisfaction as I ripped open the packet of junkfood. Permy greedily snatched a handful of chips for herself. "This proves nothing," she managed to utter between her munches.

"Ja, Polka Dots." I almost choked on my Dorito. Just when...god, oh, god. Please don't tell me.

"W-wait!" I stammered. Blood rushed through my cheeks at the mention of that pattern, which happened to be the prints on my underwear today. I like that style, don't judge me. "Where did you get that?"

"Idiot. Do you always flaunt your panties in elevators?"

 **-x-**

Chapter II completed. Care to share me your two cents?

I've learned from some that lengthy chapters are a tad off-putting. Are mine too long?

Thank you. Please do review. :)

 **TinyLaments**


	3. Strange Exchange

**Author's note:**

That hell semester is finally over. FREEDOM! For the next seven days, at least. Hmm. Curse the midyear for ever even existing. Anyway, rants aside, thank you very much for your support. Thank you for taking time to read my work and to hit the Favorite/Follow/Review buttons.

 **pinkpocket23:** I've read a number of your works, and yes, I can tell you have a thing for long chapters. Thank you for your advice. About the whole 'manga being over' thing, I'm ashamed to admit but I haven't finished reading the manga yet. Lame, I know. :)

 **ThornlessSapphirezCrimson4178:** I'm pleased to know you think that. I hope the succeeding chapters don't disappoint you, or other readers.

Oh, right, the disclaimer. Must that be done in every chapter?

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **III: Strange Exchange**

 _"Idiot. Do you always flaunt your panties in elevators?"_

 **-x-**

Two school weeks have passed since that underwear debacle, and I must admit I'm not quite over it. My hatred for a certain raven-haired male simply increased tenfold with every passing day. Did I already mention how pigheaded and arrogant Natsume Hyuuga is? It's not just that. In spite of being a slacker, he manages to attain scores at par with or even higher than mine.

Last Wednesday, he showed up in Math class for the first time, receiving a _very_ warm welcome from none other than our beloved Jinno-sensei in the form of a fifteen item seatwork on polynomials.

"How nice of you to join my class, Mr. Hyuuga," came Prof. Jinno's frosty voice.

Hyuuga shrugged with his trademark "Hn." The monosyllabic response irritated the terror professor to no end, hence the following words.

"One whole sheet of paper."

Hyuuga rifled through the problems with ease, hardly dwelling on any one item for two minutes, based on my estimation. Brains and brawns. What curse had been inflicted on the universe for it to bestow all positive qualities upon an undeserving pain in the behind? And what the hell is this jerk doing dominating my Achilles' heel? The world is simply unfair.

The same pattern was followed in the succeeding classes. Yes, we had _exactly_ the same schedule, all the way down to the sections and the instructors handling the subjects. Oh joy.

Enter Professor Rei Serio. This bitter man treated Hyuuga in the manner he did me. Like some plague-bearing abomination. Factor in the fact that jerkface missed PS 117 on the first day, and you get an incredibly unhappy political science instructor. Hyuuga dealt with the spiteful glances and thinly-veiled insults with his usual nonchalance and gracefully slid into the seat diagonal to mine. Phew. For the first time, I thanked the gods for granting me a seatmate who wasn't Permy.

Right, my fashionista of a best friend. Lunch with Permy was even more festive with Luca's presence, I've found. I wasn't completely won over, of course; I needed to ensure that he deserved my best friend. But there was just an air of gentleness about him that somehow eased any doubts I harbored toward his intentions. I don't know. Permy was smitten, though. I'm just hoping for the best.

Today was Friday, the last day of classes for the week. I was ecstatic. Why? I've been looking forward to the weekend because a childhood friend of ours, who also happened to be studying at AU, invited us to his family's latest attraction, a water park. Last night, said friend, Koko, paid us a visit at the penthouse Permy and I were sharing. It was surprising, since we assumed he was going to the UK for college. We had some catching up over tea and biscuits.

"I'm taking Psychology," he said with a sheepish grin.

Permy and I stared at him incredulously, asked him to repeat his statement, and then laughed. Shocking. Notorious troublemaker and prankster Kokoro Yome, the one whose antics made countless girls cry and chase him with murderous intent, the one who seemed to lose his marbles every now and then, taking Psychology? Oh man.

Now, the company of three increased by one, courtesy of the earlier mentioned Mr. Mischief. He and Luca hit it straight off the bat. They became friends within the blink of an eye, like it was the most natural thing.

"So Permsballs," Koko said, wiggling his eyebrows, "how about you bring your boyfriend along tomorrow?"

Permy facepalmed. " _Kokoro Yome_ , how many times do I have to tell you?! Stop calling me that. And he's not my boyfriend...yet."

"But you allow Mikan to call you Permy, why is that?"

"Oh, I don't wanna be part of this," I remarked in a vain effort to steer clear of this conversation.

Permy glared at me, frowning at me disapprovingly as though I was a great disappointment or some science experiment gone wrong. "Mikan is as stubborn as a mule. Even whacking her senseless on the head won't change that."

"Stubborn is my middle name, in case you've forgotten, Permsballs." Oh boy, Koko must be begging to have his grave dug.

"Will this nonsense end if I straighten my hair?!"

"I don't see why not," Luca chimed in with a complete disregard for Permy's opinion on the state of their relationship. "Where to?"

"The Yome Group is going to unveil its latest project: Megalodon, a water themed park," Koko supplied.

"Then count me in," Luca replied enthusiastically. Permy smiled in delight at this but said nothing.

"Oh, and Sumi-chan," the blonde added, "I like how the ends of your hair twirl. It's cute."

'Sumi-chan.' How endearing! I listened to my cherry-faced friend shyly thank him. Koko was grinning like a cheshire cat as he looked upon the couple.

"I'm off," I announced after glancing at my wristwatch. I have learned my lesson. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays meant shorter lunchtimes to avoid sprinting out of train compartments, ruining my hair and makeup, and sandwiching my dress between elevator doors. Never again. I am not rewinding that humiliating experience.

I entered the classroom five minutes before one with my makeup intact and not a single hair out of place. I wore skinny jeans today, so there was no risk of getting any of my clothes stuck between doors. I let my eyes wander to the presently vacant teacher's table. I did not get to see Hotaru Imai for the second time since that Economics class. It's been two weeks.

For some incomprehensible reason, I longed for her glacial monotone, for her strange mauve eyes. I still hadn't accustomed myself to seeing a portly, balding man discussing capitalism, or listening to his deep, grandfatherly voice. Large, loopy handwriting in place of her sure, precise strokes. Cheerful and bawdy instead of toneless.

I sighed. Then an awfully familiar sound snapped me out of my reverie.

"Daydreaming, Polka?"

My eyes registered the hunched form in front of my desk, and the face that was mere inches from mine. Mint and nutmeg assailed my nostrils as I felt his warm breath on my skin. Against my better judgment, I shivered in delight at inhaling his spicy, earthy musk. Cursing my slow reaction, I pulled myself backwards and leaned against my chair. What a creep. "What the hell is your problem?"

"You were unresponsive for the last two minutes," he answered.

"What?"

"Snap out of it. It's creepy, you know, staring at the table like that." A smirk found its way unto his lips.

I've been spacing out for two minutes? Wow. I knew I had to thank him for rousing me but I hated him for the close proximity. He could have pinched me or something. I scolded myself for my recklessness. A little more and our lips will have touched. Damn it to hell. I pushed the horrifying image away from my thoughts. Like I'd ever kiss him!

"You're attracting unwanted attention," he whispered.

Bloody hell. It was the elevator situation all over again, only wilder. "GO AWAY," I grumbled through gritted teeth. I could feel the loathing stares being directed at me. Stupid fan girls. Stupid Natsume Hyuuga. Just when I lifted my book to bludgeon him, he finally slithered away. Shame he didn't get a taste of the tough leather binding of _The Communist Manifesto_.

"Good afternoon. I trust Professor Baumhauer educated you adequately in my absence."

My head whipped around to the owner of the voice. She's back. I know not why the sight of her filled me with elation, but it just did. I really couldn't understand myself. The class appeared to rejoice with her return. Almost everyone.

"You..."

It was barely audible but I heard it just the same. His eyes were fixed on the boyish coiffure of the instructor, whose back faced us as she filled the board with her writing. Gone was the blank, emotionless stare. There was something somber lurking in those crimson irises, which were rendered glossy by what I assumed to be withheld tears. Consternation? Betrayal? Sadness? I was having difficulty discerning what it was.

He narrowed his eyes before turning to me with a vicious look that was pretty much equivalent to holding a gun to my temple. If looks could kill...

He probably realized that I was watching him. As soon as I opened my mouth to speak, his features reverted to their usual appearance. He faced the whiteboard and remained silent throughout the class. Well, well. Challenge accepted, Natsume Hyuuga. I _will_ get to the bottom of this.

Unlike Hyuuga, Imai's behavior was as it always had been. After giving us the topics for the essay, she sat behind her table, her expression an impenetrable wall of ice, as she thumbed through the glossy pages of her Nanotechnology magazine. If she was bothered by Hyuuga's piercing glances (or even acknowledged his existence), her impassive face made no indication of that.

Students gradually filed out of the room. Hyuuga, however, made no move to pass his paper forward. Instead, he rose to submit it personally. Interesting. Pretending to mind my own business, I exited the room and hid myself near the door, well within earshot. I peered through the gap created by the hinge between the door and the frame.

"Are you that eager to impress me with your work?" asked Imai, whose attention was still on her magazine.

"Imai."

She lifted her eyes to him. "Ah, Hyuuga."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You'll have to be more specific than that."

"A genius like you should know."

"A fellow genius should figure it out easily."

His face looked like crumpled paper. For a split second, I thought he was going to crack, but he quickly donned a veil of cool indifference. My heart wrenched at his pained expression, fleeting as it was. Whoa. What? There is no way I'm wasting a shred of sympathy on the likes of him.

Leaving his essay on her table, he grabbed his backpack and walked towards the exit. "I look forward to seeing you in class," he said without looking back.

* * *

I spotted Permy and Luca in our usual spot at the back of the room.

"You seem happy," Permy greeted whilst eyeing me suspiciously. Oh, I know that look. Figures. She's not my best friend for nothing.

"Later," I mouthed as I settled beside her. "All set for tomorrow?"

"Not really. We're going swimsuit shopping after class," she replied gleefully.

"Oh yeah. Thanks for reminding me. I definitely need a new one."

Luca was absentmindedly tapping on his phone, and probably wasn't listening to our conversation. I decided to call on his attention. "Are you in need of a bikini, too, Luca?"

"Huh? What? I—" His cheeks colored as he fumbled for a reply.

"Mikan," Permy warned as she concernedly looked upon the flustered Luca. The latter, finally recovering, smiled and offered to accompany us later.

"Really? Than—"

"That won't be necessary," Permy interrupted. "I mean...you'll see—"

"You'll just see tomorrow, our swimsuits, that is," I cut in.

Luca laughed lightly. "I understand. Surprise me, then."

"Who'd bother to see those flat lumps you call breasts?"

"Oh, hey, Natsume," Luca greeted his friend.

Okay, backtrack a bit. Did he just call me flat-chested? That is the _last_ straw. Excuse me while I vent out my frustration by...

Without even finalizing my thought, I reflexively lifted my leg and buried my heel into his flesh. Right in the...family jewels? He sunk to his knees, writhing in pain and skillfully demonstrating his colorful vocabulary as he clasped his manhood.

Shit. I just gave a nutshot to _the_ Natsume Hyuuga. A part of me was brimming with pride at this feat, boasting and smiling triumphantly; another was overwhelmed with dread at contemplating the consequences of the aforementioned action. His wretched fanclub will certainly chase me to the ends of the earth to tear me limb from limb.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Permy. "Bold move," she whistled. "You're lucky those scary fan girls aren't here."

She was right. The four of us were the only people in the room.

"Natsume." Luca anxiously watched his friend. "Look after him for me," he told us with urgency, "I'll go grab some ice."

"You...bitch," Hyuuga snarled as we assisted him in sitting down.

"You deserved it, _bastard_ ," I countered.

Permy immediately came to my defense, serving as a barrier between me and the pervert. "Quit bickering, you two. Let's just wait for Luca in peace, capiche?"

Begrudgingly, we nodded in agreement.

As the minutes went by, I began wondering why the classroom was still empty. Permy voiced out my thoughts. "Don't you find it strange that only the four of us are here?"

"Yeah," Hyuuga and I said in unison, earning us a soft giggle from Permy. "What?" Again, simultaneously. God. Hyuuga _has_ to stop copying me.

"Honestly, you two..."

Footsteps resounded at the doorway.

"Took you long enough," Hyuuga muttered under his breath.

A man burst through the door. He was breathing frantically and sweating profusely, as though he'd been running a marathon. I figured he was some kind of messenger or errandboy. "I'm sorry, students. For those of you who haven't received the email, today is a free period. Narumi-sensei is otherwise occupied. Again, my deepest apologies in behalf of Prof. Anju." He dashed out of the room without another word.

"What..."

"...the..."

"...fuck."

I lost track of who said what. Each of us whipped out his/her mobile. True enough, there was an email sent FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO. Could he not have notified us sooner?! I could have been happily fitting a hot pink Zimmermann tankini or a cute ruffled Roxy bandeau two-piece with Permy instead of forcing myself to deal amicably with my now injured archnemesis. Argh! This family jewels fiasco could have been prevented if Narumi had sent that blasted email ASAP.

A brief glance at Hyuuga and I could tell that he was close to reducing his expensive seven-inch smartphone to smithereens. I wouldn't put it past him to murder someone at this very instant. And to my misfortune, that person would certainly be me.

"Sorry...I...took...so long." Luca's apology was interspersed with pants. He handed Hyuuga a plastic bag containing a chunk of ice shaped like a swan's head.

Permy gasped in disbelief. "Please tell me you did not just ruin someone's ice sculpture."

"I had no choice. Besides, the geometry of this shard is perfect for his..err, injury," Luca replied. Sensing the awkward air, he added, "Anyway, thank you for staying by him."

"Sure thing," Permy and I chorused.

"Oi, Luca," Hyuuga demanded, "did you know that damned Narumi wasn't coming?"

"Uh, yeah. I got an email earlier, around 3PM. I thought you knew?"

"Luca," Hyuuga all but growled.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Permy queried.

"And why were you here?" I added.

"I guess it slipped my mind," he answered smilingly.

A dark, deadly aura was now emanating from the wounded Hyuuga. Permy tapped my arm, silently informing me that we should flee the scene, not that I wasn't already planning to. I wanted to get the hell out of there, away from Hyuuga's wrath.

"Well, Luca, that was...interesting. As Permy already mentioned, we still have some swimsuits to buy. Right, Perms?"

"You bet. See you tomorrow. Bye!"

We made a run for the door, leaving poor Luca in the hands of the demon.

* * *

"Do you think he's all right?" I asked Permy as I tightened the knot holding my top in place.

"I hope so. I really care for the guy, but I value my own life," I heard her say from the adjoining cubicle.

"Still not your boyfriend, huh?"

"One step at a time, Mikan. I'm just not sure yet."

"Hm. That's understandable. You done?"

"Wait. Okay, I'm good."

I emerged from the fitting room clad in a red polka-dotted classical two-piece. It's the third one I've tried since we entered the store, and I think I'm contented with it. Permy came out in a sky blue monokini (not the topless kind) with a seaweed green swirly pattern, a swimsuit choice which was less revealing than the earlier animal-printed and hand crocheted bikinis.

She was fiddling with the golden ring that attached her top to the thin strip connected to the swimsuit bottom. "Thoughts?"

"A bit conservative, considering you're you," I did not miss the skyward movement of her eyebrows, "but I love it! Way better than zebra and 'netkini.' C'mon, you looked like a fishing net with that crocheted one, admit it. Plus, the green really brings out your eyes. Luca will definitely be blown away."

"Not bad." She smiled and began scrutinizing me. "Polka dots and red. Could you, by any chance, be taking fashion advice from Natsume Hyuuga?"

I almost choked. "What?"

"First day, English class, he called you 'polka dots,' remember? Also, his favorite color is red. Were you subconsciously considering his preferences?"

My jaw dropped. Literally. I struggled to formulate a response. "The hell, Permy?" I managed to find the words. "Were you so lost in Luca's blue, yes they were so light I mistook them for grey, eyes you forgot all common sense? I _hate_ the guy. Why should I care what he thinks? You know I love polka dots. And they look especially cute on this one," I dramatically swept my hand down my midsection, gesturing at the polka-dotted fabric.

"Whoa there. Defensive," Permy chuckled at my outburst. "Okay. I like the size and spacing of the dots. Not too bold a print, not too largely-spaced. You're right, it's adorable. Red looks good on you, given your complexion. Classic's fine, but you may opt for a string bikini. Again, that's just my opinion. You're in great shape for someone who eats like there's no tomorrow."

I lightly jabbed her toned stomach. "Right back at you, sister. I saw what you did with those Doritos."

"That proves nothing."

"Whatever. So, are we buying these ones?"

"Totally."

Concluding our swimsuit shopping, we deposited the purchased items in the limo. In the midst of debating between Mexican and Thai, I suggested that we visit Anna's café. My Howalon cravings were acting up. A little coaxing and promising to let her select the venue next time, and I finally got Permy to agree.

The pretty woman at the counter welcomed us with a warm smile. "Good evening, Shouda-sama, Yukihira-sama. May I take your orders?"

"Certainly. One strawberry frappé, a caramel macchiato, two salmon and cheese croissants, a slice of blueberry cheesecake, and one order of Howalons," Permy supplied before looking my way. "Anything else?"

I shook my head. "Is Anna in?"

"My sincerest apologies, Miss. I'm afraid Mistress Anna is currently at the Ogosawara's. You can expect her presence tomorrow at the Yome Group event."

"I see. Thanks."

She smiled graciously. "Your orders will arrive shortly. Thank you very much."

The café was packed. Not atypical, of course, with the establishment's popularity, but the sheer volume of customers startled me slightly. There was a plethora of people: businessmen, scrub-clad surgeons, cops, high school students still dressed in their uniforms, and partygoers, judging by their flashy outfits and excessive jewelry which I think is more appropriately termed 'bling.' Or was it 'bling bling?' Whatever. Maybe their number can be attributed to the fact that it was a Friday night.

Permy tugged on my arm. "I need to powder my nose. _You_ find us a table." And the search begins.

I scanned the area for a vacant spot, trodding cautiously and steering clear of any protruding limbs that I may trip on. To my dismay, I found none. No, I'm not looking hard enough, I convinced myself. I circled back around the table of rowdy teenagers and past the grim-faced men dressed in corporal attire. Nope. Zero. Nada. Zilch. That was when I glimpsed a pair of amethysts.

Fingers still dancing on the keyboard of her purple laptop, Hotaru Imai averted her gaze to me. "Speak," she commanded.

I gulped. Hauntingly beautiful but terrifying. I fidgeted as I mustered my guts. "Would you mind if my friend and I share the table with you? You see, there are no more empty tables so...may we?"

She continued looking at me for a while, soundlessly sipped some espresso, and returned her eyes to the screen of her computer. She then fluidly waved her hand in the direction of the chair opposite hers, signifying her approval. I sat down and sent an SMS to Permy, indicating my present location.

An uncomfortable silence hung in the air. I felt the urge to speak, but I didn't know what to say. Thankfully, the waiter arrived carrying Permy's and my food before I could embarrass myself. Just as the deliverer took his leave, my best friend appeared.

"What kept you?"

"Monthly," she answered with a grimace. Picking up her cutleries, she faced the person sitting across us. "Sorry for the unnecessary information. And thank you for sharing your space with us."

"No problem," she drawled coolly.

We ate in silence, except for the occasional clinking of eating utensils, the tapping of keys, and the almost inaudible slurps, courtesy of yours truly. I was halfway through my Howalons when Permy ceased wolfing down her cheesecake and decided to break the monotony. "That person," she pointed using her lips, "I think I've seen her somewhere."

I licked the sweet cream off my lips. "I bet you have. That's Hotaru Imai."

"Oh," she nodded with understanding while shoving a spoonful of cake into her mouth. Then she did a double-take. "Eh?"

"And get this, she's my Economics teacher."

"That's...quite a leap."

The subject of our conversation busied herself with her computer, completely unaffected, as though we were not whispering about her in front of her. Silence reigned once more. After a few more mouthfuls of Howalons, I watched her lower the lid of her laptop. She emptied her cup, acknowledged us with a nod, and walked through the doors of the café.

"Icy and sophisticated, just as they say. I'd like to make friends with her," Permy declared.

"I do, too. But she's too much of an ice queen." I hungrily drank more frappé.

"Still."

"I know." Then I remembered something important. "I promised to tell you something."

She raised a brow perceptively. "About time you brought that up. So what were you gonna tell me earlier?"

"There's something going on between her and Natsume Hyuuga. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out."

 **-x-**

Chapter III done. So, how did you find it? I decided to stick with this length, as well as to maintain the FPPOV. Fingers crossed I'll be able to do so in the chapters to come.

Again, please do review. Thank you very much.

 **TinyLaments**


	4. Caught in the Undertow

**Author's note:**

Counting down the days of my mock independence...

5 left. Back to school when it reaches 0.

I express my gratitude to those who continue viewing/reviewing/following/favorite-ing this story.

 **SunBabyBoss:** Intriguing. Involved... How? In what? I'm still scrambling for ideas, actually. Just like my previous work (not on this site), I'll be forever winging it. :)

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **IV: Caught In the Undertow**

 _"There's something going on between her and Natsume Hyuuga. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out."_

 **-x-**

I now understand why this park was named after an extinct marine predator thrice or even four times the size of a great white shark.

"3...2...1...aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! Oh my god! Oh my...waaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"

That was me ripping my throat out screaming as I've been cruelly thrust into a grisly, spiraling 600-foot long vertebral column.

I flailed my arms uncontrollably throughout my descent, and cliché as it may be, watched my life flash before my very eyes like a movie fast-forwarded to the nth degree. The blood-streaked bones jutting out of the ceiling seemed to go on forever. I felt caged in a fearsome beast's jaws, barred from the outside by its vicious fangs.

I was aware that it was just a convoluted pathway that enabled travel from a certain height to a body of water situated at a lower elevation, I mean I could still feel, see, and taste the water gushing about me, but...

"Koko, I swear I'll haunt you when I die!" I shrieked.

How long have I been falling? How many times have I been rotated, twisted, shot through loops, and propelled up steep inclines only to have my heart dropping to my feet at the sudden change in concavity? I still had the wits to sigh. I've lost count.

I plunged into the five-foot pool while lying on my back. Liquid infiltrated my nose and my ears. I swam towards the surface, eyes locked on the hellish slide that had just spewed me out. To think that I actually survived that.

"Mikan, look out!" Permy yelled. Wait, Permy?

A click, a flash, and a painful collision with a swimsuit-clad bottom followed Permy's late warning. Her crash caused us both to sink deeper into the water. Rubbing my aching head, I helped her wade to the edge of the pool.

"Where. Is. That. Asshole. Kokoro Yome?!" Permy fumed. I backed off, dismissing my intention to reprimand her for not informing me in advance of her landing.

Where indeed? Where was our beloved sand-haired friend? No, no, I'm not mad. It's not like I'm itching to strangle the living daylight out of him.

"He never mentioned this place was Horrorland," I sighed.

A figure came barreling out of the chute like a cannon ball. Speak of the devil.

"Looking for me?" he had the nerve to ask. God bless you, Koko. God bless you.

"Come back here, idiot!" Permy shouted as she scuffled around the pool to chase him. "When I get my hands on you...!"

I flicked the wet fringes that were matted to my face as I watched Permy exact revenge on the whacko who pushed us into our deaths. In as much as I do not enjoy being driven to the point of almost pissing in my pants, I actually enjoyed the water slide of doom. I was slipping on my oversized Led Zeppelin tee when I heard another click, followed by a blinding flash.

"Hey! Why are you— Oh." I slowly raised my hand and waved it awkwardly. "Hello, Imai-sensei."

"Hello to you, too, Yukihira-san," she returned in a monotone. She was perched on one of the stone benches that were carved into shark jaws, with a camera in hand and a wide-brimmed sunhat over her head. Through her translucent lilac kaftan, I could glimpse a black single-strapped, asymmetrical top paired with a rather daring striped thong of the same color.

I gingerly took a spot beside her, careful not to impale my hindquarters on the sharp, concrete structures that were supposed to be teeth. "Wasn't expecting you here. What were you taking pictures of, if you don't mind me asking?"

She pressed a button on her camera, and out came a photograph. Of Permy and I. More specifically, of her butt on my face. A string of obscenities left my mouth, completely unfiltered and downright unladylike. Natsume Hyuuga wasn't the only one with a colorful vocabulary.

The photographer smirked wickedly at my reddened face. How can something seemingly harmless and atrociously adorable become so maleficent in a matter of seconds?

"You can keep that," she said before proceeding to tinkering with her camera.

I cradled the snapshot in my hands. It wasn't a glamour shot, but it wasn't something Permy and I couldn't make a good laugh out of.

"Thank you," I chirped cheerily. When I failed to elicit a verbal response, I started narrating my near-death experience and elaborated on how hungry I become after being subjected to intense levels of fear and terror. What a blithering idiot I was. She listened to me quietly. Or rather, ignored my babble.

Her eyes abandoned her camera and fell upon me. "Are you going to the concession stands?"

She finally spoke. Not the reply I was expecting. Nevertheless, it was better than her cold silence. I nodded.

"Good. Get me a dark chocolate smoothie and a seafood platter. Make sure they have crab, or else."

I blinked in confusion. "What?"

"You're buying food, are you not?"

"Oh. Uh, yes. Yes, I am."

"Then what are you standing here for?"

Brr. I wilted under her cold, domineering stare. Who knew she was this demanding? "Dark chocolate smoothie. Seafood platter. Crab. Got it," I chanted as I committed the list to memory.

"Remember, crabs," she said in an ominous tone, "or there will be repercussions." Her camera produced another photograph, one which I never imagined to lay my eyes upon. I gaped at the photo in horror.

"Unless you'd like pictures of you two kissing circulated throughout Japan, you will satisfy my demand."

"How on earth—? I-it's not like that," I huffed in indignation. I could feel my cheeks flaring up. "We were NOT kissing!"

"You know who I am. Such can be easily arranged," she put primly. This woman is diabolical!

"We've come to an understanding, yes?"

"Dare I refuse?"

Remembering her ultimatum, I unhappily stalked off toward the concession stands.

* * *

"Strawberry Shuffle and Black Blizzard for Miss Mikan."

"That's me."

"Thank you for choosing _Whorl'dWild_! Next customer!"

Smoothie: check. Seafood platter: check. Hold up. Dammit. No crab! Clutching the smoothies and a box of chicken wings in one hand, and the thrice-damned no-crab seafood platter in my other, I marched back to the store marked 'Marine Emporium.' The owner met me with an apology and a detailed explanation on the misappropriation of their langoustine and crab stocks. That just _had_ to happen today. Thanks a lot, universe.

I resumed my search. It, unfortunately, like my hunt for vacant tables at Anna's last night, turned up empty. However, surrendering was not an option, not with my dignity and a potential friendship hanging on the line.

Journeying back to the pool area, I came across a shop of preserves and other bottled goods. If I can't procure the fresh crustacean, I might as well settle for the preserved version. After all, there were no specifications provided.

I examined the shelves for anything 'crab.' Pickled herring, strawberry preserves, black olives, dill, and pig's feet. I shuddered in disgust at the last one. Gross, just gross. I decided to consult the salesperson.

The bubblegum-blowing attendant typed something into her computer. "You're in luck, missy. We've got one jar of crab brains righttttt...there."

I dashed to the corner that she directed me to. Bingo! I gripped the jar, only to find another set of fingers wrapping themselves around it.

"Let go, Polka." Ugh. Natsume Hyuuga.

"It's mine," I bit back while reinforcing my hold.

"I got it first, and you know it."

"That is based on you and your twisted time frame. Event A: Mikan Yukihira grabs jar of crab brains occurred first."

"Special relativity, I see. Isn't your frame distorted, as well?"

"Unhand the jar. Thievery is a crime, you know."

"A crime of which you are guilty."

"How is taking what's mine a crime?"

"Your ownership has never been established."

"Give me the jar, or DIE."

"Your luck won't help you this time."

"That lowblow I landed was not by luck. That's one dull genius, to actually believe in some force tilting things in or against your favor."

"I used the term 'luck' for your benefit, idiot. Not everyone can fully grasp the concept of probability."

"Um, guys," Luca intervened between us, "you're getting off topic."

"Shut up, Luca!" we chorused, making the poor guy retreat toward the opposing shelf.

"Quit copying me, Polka."

"You're the one copying me. And I have a name. Mikan. M-I-K-A-N."

"I'll call you whatever I want. Now LET GO." He yanked the jar, dragging me along with it.

" _You_ let go." I used my other hand to pry his fingers from the container but to no avail. Hyuuga's grip strength was nothing to joke about.

For the second time, Luca attempted to pacify us. "Why don't you let her be the judge?" He was referring to the blonde woman behind the cash register. "She should suffice as a lab frame."

"Fine."

"Hn."

The woman in question conjured a bubble, popped it, and resumed her gauche open-mouthed mastication. "I don't know what you youngsters been yappin' about. Missy or mister, whoever buys it doesnt matter. Now fork over the dough."

"Not helping," Luca grumbled as he dramatically slapped his palm against his forehead.

After witnessing the cashier's astounding arbitration efforts, I decided to change my approach. "Hyuuga, this is really important to me," I softened to a pleading tone. "There's much at stake here. Could you please curb your cravings for now? I'll buy you crab brains next time. A whole crate, if that's what you want."

"What the fuck?"

"Let me have this one for now. _Please_."

"No."

Looks like I have to spill the beans. "Earlier today, Hotaru Imai asked me to buy her some food: a dark chocolate smoothie and a seafood platter. Crab was a must-have. But the Marine Emporium, or any other store here, for that matter, didn't have any. I thought 'since she never actually specified what she meant by crab, any sort of crab would do.' Then I found the crab brains. So, will you please let me have this jar? Because if I return to her emptyhanded, she'll spread a picture of you and me kissing," I blurted out in one breath.

Hyuuga's eyes widened slightly. Luca's mouth hung agape.

"You kissed her?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Hyuuga replied with a roll of his eyes. His eyes bore into mine with such ferocity, but I could sense his grip loosening. Seizing the opportunity, I wrestled the jar out of his hands.

"Thanks a bunch!" I beamed at him.

He watched me as I moved across the store to the register. "You're not just doing it for the pictures," he said flatly.

I sent him a questioning look. "What's it to you? I'm befriending her."

He scoffed. "Like you've got a chance with that witch." Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned to leave. "Let's go, Luca."

Luca trailed behind him like an obedient puppy. "Ja ne, Mikan-san!"

* * *

I found Hotaru Imai browsing her emails on her laptop.

As I took my place beside her, I noticed a bespectacled man in a teal floral shirt and white boardshorts standing a few feet from where we were. He was eyeing me suspiciously. Weird.

Imai gave me an appraising look, and unscrewed the lid of the jar of crab brains. "You're late," she remarked tonelessly.

"Well I'm sorry people around here don't have crabs," I murmured unapologetically. I took out my own food and frowned. My once scrumptious, crispy chicken wings were now cold and unappetizing. They still tasted good, though.

"Do you know him?" I pointed at four-eyes with my toothpick.

"An acquaintance," she drawled. She flicked her wrist, gesturing the man to come over.

He approached us with long, dignified strides. "Forgive my rude behavior. I am Yuu Tobita."

I studied the man's features as he straightened to his normal posture. Hm, androgynous. His ash blonde hair, which was cropped right below the ear, was a bit messy like sex hair. His eyes were about the same color as his locks. Intelligence was plain in the way they glimmered, and it had nothing to do with the glasses.

He struck me as effeminate. Too kind, even when he glared. Not particularly threatening. Acquaintance? Maybe Imai fancied the submissive types?

"Mikan Yukihira." I extended my hand.

He shook it briefly, then turned to Imai. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going for a lap." He disappeared into the water with a massive splash.

"Mikan-chan!"

I pivoted on my heel and saw Anna jogging towards me. Following her were Nonoko, a slant-eyed guy who bore an uncanny resemblance to Koko, and Permy who was dragging Koko by the collar of his shirt. Judging by Koko's expression, Permy had given him quite a beating. Hah! Serves him right.

Anna pulled me into a hug and complimented me on my swimsuit. "How cute! It matches my red velvet cupcakes, look."

Nonoko opened the container she was holding and brought out a maroon-colored cupcake studded with white droplets. Red with specks of white, just like my polka-dotted bikini.

"Anna's cupcakes? Gimme gimme!" Koko wriggled out of his shirt, much to Permy's annoyance, and made a leap for Anna's pastries.

"Koko's not having any." Permy swatted Koko's hand before he could even reach into the box.

"Hey, no fair! Don't listen to her, Nonoko."

"They're delicious," I commented as I helped myself to another cupcake.

"Aww, thanks, Mikan-chan," Anna blushed.

I approached Imai. "Wanna try?" I offered.

"Don't bother. She detests white chocolate."

"Hi, Sumi-chan, Mikan-san, and Koko."

Lo and behold, in all their shirtless glory, Luca Nogi and Natsume Hyuuga. If the hyperactive, hormonal fan girls were around, they'd surely drop like flies.

I hated Hyuuga's guts, but I had nothing against the overlying rectus abdominus, which was as well-defined as a Hersheys bar. And those pecs and obliques...just mouthwatering. Oh, impulse control, where art thou? Banish all forbidden fantasies of Hyuuga's heavenly body.

"Ogling, are we? Never took you for a pervert, Polka."

"H-how conceited," I replied in a feeble attempt to disguise my staring. Flushing crimson, I averted my eyes to my feet. "I did no such thing. The only pervert around here is you."

"Lying is bad, you know," he mocked. His eyes flickered to Imai, then to the jar of crab brains, and then to Yuu who was on Imai's right. "Who's he?"

Imai handed her crab brains to Yuu, leaned forward, and took a bite of my cupcake. "It's good," she said. The corners of her lips tugged slightly. It was minuscule, but it was the most beautiful smile I've ever seen.

Hyuuga narrowed his eyes at her, almost disbelieving. Imai broke off a portion of the cupcake and shoved it into Yuu's mouth.

A strange, stifling atmosphere was generated as amethyst met ruby. Sparks flew between Hyuuga and Imai, and those were not the romantic kind. Both were glaring daggers at each other, unblinking and unrelenting.

Before anyone could commit murder, someone interrupted with a "Natsume." Ever the pacifist, Luca?

Hyuuga arched an eyebrow at his best friend, and diverted his stare to me. "You'll only become a slave." He walked away, giving me a full view of his chiseled back.

"Thanks, Sumi-chan," Luca returned the cupcake that Permy shared with him. "Natsume, wait up!"

"How thrilling," Permy simpered as she plopped down beside me. "How goes sleuthing?"

I shook my head. "He just keeps discouraging me from making friends with her. What's his problem, anyway? And what was _that_ about?"

"Hm," she hummed distractedly through the pastries stuffing her mouth. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was jealous."

I shrugged. "Let's worry about that later. I'd like to relax and have fun for now."

"If only." Permy sighed and fanned herself furiously. "Getting chased by robotic piranhas in a gigantic fishtank filled with blood red water is the definition of fun."

I swallowed inwardly. "They actually have that? More importantly, you actually went into that?"

"The perks of being friends with Kokoro Yome."

"You called?" the sand-haired devil interjected.

Permy smacked him on the head with her wooden fan. "Quit popping up like that, you numbskull. I've had one too many heart attacks today."

I nodded in agreement. "You failed to mention we'd be jumping out of our skin. Don't you have any normal rides?"

"Normal?" Koko questioned as he massaged his head.

"Yeah. The kind that won't scare us to death?"

"A ride, no." He looked around, doing a silent headcount. "There's nine of us here. Ten, if you count Imai's friend. That's a pretty good number for the game."

"Pardon?" Yuu looked at Koko quizzically.

"Tobita, you're joining," Imai stated blandly.

"Understood."

* * *

The rules were simple: don't get shot. Typical paintball.

The goal was more challenging, considering the greater fluid resistance provided by water. To win, the team must retrieve a shark fin chained to the floor at a certain depth in an undisclosed location. The chains contained locks, which can only be opened by keys in the possession of the members of the opposing team. Don't get hit, steal keys, locate fin, unlock chains, and take fin. Simple, right?

Luca's hand shot up. "Won't the paint get washed off?"

"These, my friend, are not your average paintballs," Koko answered knowingly. "Nonoko here made a compound that stains all solid surfaces and can only be dissolved by another solvent of her creation."

"You guys will have to see me after the game," Nonoko reminded. "I've yet to install the decontamination units in the shower rooms."

The teams were as follows:

Red Team: Anna, Luca, Nonoko, Imai, and Yuu; and,

Green Team: Koko, Permy, Koko's twin Kitsuneme, myself, and Hyuuga.

And here I was, looking forward to turning Hyuuga into Swiss cheese. Bummer.

We were given masks and waterproof comm units with colors corresponding to our teams. I tested the paintball gun on the wall. Fluorescent green marred the rich royal blue mural. Neat. Nonoko will have to spray the poor wall later. I fastened the mask over my head and positioned the comm in my ear.

A gunshot. Game start.

I immediately ran through knee level water and took cover behind a tombstone. Morbid. What was I expecting? The field was designed to be an underwater graveyard.

I caught sight of Luca running between tombs whilst continuously firing at a target outside my field of view. He dove and rolled into a mausoleum, narrowly dodging a shot aimed at his head.

I slowly moved to the next tombstone, wary of any sudden blasts from Luca. Suddenly, something came tumbling down the rocky incline 45 degrees with respect to my position.

Panic overcame me. I pulled the trigger mercilessly. I didn't remember closing my eyes. When I opened them, I came face to face with the Hulk's rock hard abs. A hand came down on my head, hard.

"What do you think you're doing, idiot?" Hyuuga lowered his mask to his neck, revealing an angered expression. He was out of breath and dripping wet. With the distance I shot him from, his chest was bound to be covered in bruises.

"Oops."

"Stupid," he muttered irritatedly. "I found the fin."

Already? Impressive, Hyuuga. But I wasn't going to inflate his already bursting ego. "You have some use after all."

"I bet you haven't even fired a single shot."

"Guess again, genius," I motioned at his paint-splattered body.

He glared at me darkly. "You're not supposed to frag your troops, you dimwit."

"I acted on instinct. You could've been the enemy."

"Whatever. I can't believe I missed. Seen anyone with Luca?"

"So full of yourself. I dunno. He's in that mausoleum. Let's surround him, and then open fire."

"You're forgetting the minimum distance rule."

"Oh right. Got any plans?"

Just then, Luca Nogi and Hotaru Imai burst out of the mausoleum, unleashing a torrent of paintballs on the area. They split, running in separate semicircles, with Luca darting to the left and Imai to the right.

"Move," Hyuuga growled in my ear. "We're going to be surrounded at this rate. I'll take down Luca. You handle Imai." He pulled his mask over his face. I followed suit and swam in the opposite direction.

Underwater, I could see nothing other than bones, caskets, rotting corpses, and other deceased creatures littering the floor. Some fifty meters to my right, I noticed a pair of legs I presumed to be Hyuuga's, on the basis of his clothing color. Imai's black thong was nowhere in sight. I decided to resurface, only to discover that the owner of the red trunks was Luca. Christ, I'm dead.

The impact was more forceful than I had anticipated. There was something about the sensation that felt off. Paintball pellets are _not_ supposed to have digits. Paintball pellets are _most certainly not_ supposed to cup breasts.

"Were you sleepwalking?" Hyuuga dared to mock after relinquishing my breast. Damn perverted bastard!

"Pervert! I thought he was you," I retorted while crossing my arms over my thorax.

"34B. Not bad, not bad at all," he smirked.

"Warn me next time, will you?!"

"You're begging to be shot," he hissed. "Luca sprayed his pants. Must've been Imai's idea, that crafty bitch. Do you have visual on her?"

"Nope. Just Luca's legs and some shipwreck debris. You?"

He shook his head, making his dark locks sprinkle me with water droplets. "Let's move. We still have some keys to steal."

We transferred to the adjacent protective surface, a half-buried, dilapidated speedboat.

"I've been meaning to ask, why do you hate her so much?" I inquired as I leaned against the cold metal.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, probably debating whether or not to dignify my question with a response. An unreadable expression slowly etched itself unto his features. "I don't," he said gruffly.

The characteristic sound of paintballs slapping against skin prevented me from prompting him further. Whatever. I'll have other chances.

At the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Kitsuneme receiving a vicious, machine gun-like barrage of paintballs from Luca. What a pitiful sight.

"Eep! Kitsu—"

"No, you dolt! Get back here!" Permy hissed as she pulled Koko back into hiding.

"Jeepers!" Koko exclaimed. "Imai must've tweaked their guns. That output was just insane." He grimaced at his slant-eyed counterpart who was now on his fours.

"Yome and Shouda can attack with their current range." Hyuuga pressed on the comm in his ear. "Yome, take two o'clock. Shouda, stay put. I'll take seven. Polka, on eleven."

"Copy that," Permy answered. "Anna's down. Nonoko escaped but we managed to extract her key."

"Tobita is MIA," Koko barked.

"Hn. Three more," Hyuuga said. "Now, open fire on Luca."

"When the hell—?! H-he-hey, you can't fi— Oh shit, my key!" came Koko's wails, threatening to blast my eardrums.

"Yome, report. What's going on?" Hyuuga demanded.

"To-to-to-Tobita!"

As if on cue, Yuu came somersaulting from Koko's location holding a...handgun. A real motherfucking handgun.

"Game over, guys, sorry," he said as he fired at an unseen target. "Please evacuate immediately."

A flash of midnight blue and bubblegum pink lulled me out of my shock. Nonoko and Anna were dashing at the northeastern corner, waving their arms and calling my name. Permy was being ushered to the exit by Koko, who was hauling a half-conscious Kitsuneme. Okay, good. They're safe.

The graveyard reverberated with the rhythmic symphony of rattling firearms and ricocheting bullets. Bodies fell, primarily of gunmen dressed in black suits. I retract all my comments on his sexuality or reliability; Yuu was quite the marksman.

"Has anyone seen Hotaru?" Yuu inquired hoarsely, panic evident in his expression. He cast aside his handgun for an Uzi.

"No. I haven't seen her since the game started." I looked to Hyuuga and Luca, who simply shook their heads and wrung their shoulders in response.

"You better leave now. While you still can." Yuu's voice was militant but his eyes told another story.

Hyuuga suddenly snatched Yuu's weapon, causing the marksman to draw another gun. He didn't even flinch at the 0.45 held between his eyebrows. "Luca, take Polka and get the hell out of here. I'll find Imai," he declared.

"Hyuuga," Yuu warned, still pointing the gun at the guy's forehead.

"But Natsume—"

"Go," Hyuuga rasped. "I'll be fine, Luca. Just go."

With a wounded look on his face, Luca reluctantly grabbed my arm, urging me to leave. When I refused to budge, he circled his arm around my hip and slung me over his shoulder as though I were a bag. "Put me down, Luca!" I drummed my fists on his bare back. "I wanna help, too."

"Idiots."

Imai emerged from the shadows of a shark skeleton, carrying a carbine type submachine gun. Blood trickled down her arm from being grazed by a bullet on the shoulder. Yuu wasn't alone after all.

She moved toward Hyuuga and splayed her fingers over the gun in his hands. "You've found me. Now let go of my property and leave," she said coldly as she looked into his eyes.

Frowning and slightly shaking his head, Hyuuga stubbornly held her penetrative gaze. "No. That's you, not me."

 **-x-**

Chapter IV done. Yay or nay?

I'm not sure if the crab brains are preserved or what. God, the battle scenes are disorienting, aren't they?

Looking forward to your reviews.

 **TinyLaments**


	5. Of Reminiscence, Ravens, and Realization

**Author's note:**  
Four.

I apologize for the confusing ending. I hope this chapter helps clear things up.

 **xMikanNatsumex:** Rest easy, my dear. This is not a Hotsume fic, I assure you.

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **V: Of Reminiscence, Ravens, and Realizations**

 _"Frowning and slightly shaking his head, Hyuuga stubbornly held her penetrative gaze. "No. That's you, not me."_

 **-x-**

I never imagined being caught in this crossfire, especially when mere minutes ago, we were having fun exchanging paintball pellets. In front of me were no longer innocent, pressurized paint dispensers. They were real firearms, in the hands of non-amateurs. Men who will pull the trigger without even batting an eyelash. Men who will not hesitate to kill.

"Luca, put me down," I glowered at the blonde who had me secured between his arm and his shoulder. No matter how much I pounded on his back or slammed my legs against his midsection, he showed not the slightest indication of letting me go. Helplessly hanging like a sack of potatoes, I could only watch the events unfold from a distance.

"Impeccable timing as always, Hyuuga." Imai's amethyst orbs grew colder, if that were even possible. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Hyuuga tore away from Imai, cocking the stolen Uzi in his hand. "I'm not leaving," he insisted.

"Get out. There's no need to involve yourself in this," Yuu ordered. He was currently battling two of the hired goons at close quarters.

Hyuuga simply shrugged and proceeded to firing at the men in black. His accuracy was a farcry from Yuu's but he was doing a decent job fending off the incoming foes.

"Natsume."

My eyes trailed to Luca, who was anxiously watching his best friend. He finally allowed my feet to touch the ground. We were taking refuge in one of the mausoleums, considerably safe from the fighting.

The fuck just happened? Who are these people, and what are they after? Who was Yuu, really? Why did he and Imai have guns? Why is Hyuuga risking his life? These unanswered questions, along with some half-baked hypotheses were giving me a hemorrhage. I steadied myself by grabbing onto one of the steel posts.

"Mikan-san, are you all right?" Luca's hands began sweeping over my forehead, then to my cheeks and neck, before traveling to my shoulders, where he applied some pressure, requesting me to sit down.

"I'm fine, Luca," I assured him as I settled on the tomb. "Just shaken is all."

He chuckled softly. "That's quite an understatement."

"I've had my fair share of kidnapping attempts," I said casually, "but yeah, this is certainly much scarier than all of those combined." I smiled at the reminiscence. The suspiciously kind strangers who would offer free rides and treats, pretty young women who claimed to be the latest replacement of my nanny, those disguised as teachers and nurses in school— quite laughable compared to now.

"You could say that again," Luca replied nonchalantly. "Kidnappers. They never learn."

"So, are these kidnappers as well?" I asked offhandedly.

"I can't say for sure," he said with a slight lateral movement of his head.

"You know something, don't you?" I cupped his chin and angled his face to mine. The brusqueness of the action caused his cheeks to color. Alarm was plain his azure eyes, which were slightly larger than usual.

"W-what are you referring to, Mikan-san?" he stuttered as he struggled to maintain eye contact with me.

I released his chin and folded my arms over my lap. "My thoughts are careening out of control. Luca, I just want some peace of mind," I answered earnestly. Not knowing bothered me endlessly, especially with Natsume Hyuuga at the heart of it. Don't get me wrong, I am not concerned for his well-being. Curiosity. That's it, the driving factor in this pursuit of information. Not anything as ludicrous as a growing infatuation or love. 'Know thy enemy,' right?

Luca's eyes were trained yet again on the ravenhead who was fighting alongside my Economics professor. "Interested in Natsume?" he quizzed.

"I...uh—not _that_ kind of interest," I squeaked.

He brushed the golden bangs off his face and slicked them over his head, as in Dracula's hairstyle. "Mikan-san, I really want to help you clear your mind," he admonished, "but I am in no position to be divulging Natsume's life story to others without his consent. I hope you understand that."

I unconsciously bit my lip. "Can't you at least explain _this_ ," I dramatically gestured at the ongoing bloodbath, "to me? What do these goons want? And why was Natsume so adamant on staying behind?"

The asshole could've gotten killed. Was he that much of an alpha male, unwilling to acknowledge inferiority, eager to exert his dominance in every field? Was this an act of heroism? Self-sacrifice, for Imai, perhaps? Or was this his way of seeking atonement for a past transgression? Why do I care so much? Oh god. Did I just use his first name?

Luca heaved a deep sigh. "Kidnappings are common for kids like us, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, Imai has it worse," he said. "As you already know, certain people are desperate to get her on their side. They'd go to all lengths to persuade her—bribery, marriage proposals, blackmail—you name it. Well, not so much on that last one."

Natsu, Mikan, sitting on a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. The rhyme played repeatedly in my head, accompanied by a detailed visual representation of the words. Gah! What did Permy say? My face could put his blood red rubies to shame. I'm redder than the reddest of red MAC lipsticks.

This is all Hotaru Imai's fault!

"Anyway," Luca continued, oblivious to my blushing, "there are those who give up any attempts to seduce her. They just go straight for the kill. Literally. In this particular situation, I'm not sure which it will be. But with the way things are going, I don't think these people want her alive."

"Huh," I hummed weakly. The revelation made me shiver. I was aware that she was coveted by many, but I never expected things to be this bad. I can't even begin to imagine that kind of life, one lived in paranoia, in constant fear, in a complete distrust for others. I doubt she even had a childhood to speak of. And her parents...

"You okay there, Mikan-san?" Luca's tone was one of worry.

"Uh, yes, yes. So where do you and Hyuuga come in?"

"The three of us went to the same school. In France. Imai transferred in when we were in second grade. Actually, I don't know how she became our friend. She was quite an enigma. Pretty girl, dreadfully quiet and cold. Like every new kid, she wasn't spared from bullying. But she just shrugged the bullies off, usually with those weird contraptions of hers."

Luca's lips suddenly twisted into a frown. "Ye-eah, the baka gun, she calls it. Those balls fricking hurt, don't ask."

"I won't. Please continue."

"Natsume instantly marked her as a threat. They became rivals at everything— academics, sports, and even video games. Those two were so similar they'd often be mistaken for twins, which they'd deny with vehemence. Mention the possibility of a blood relation between the two, and you'd end up with bruises and broken bones, or ripped underwear and a soiled reputation. Or both."

I grimaced. At that moment, the guns went quiet. Luca and I exchanged uneasy glances, trying to decipher the situation. We peered through the bars of the gate, and saw the goons patrolling the area. I couldn't find Hyuuga, Imai, or Yuu. Where were they? Were they injured? Has anyone been captured or killed? I hated this, this not knowing, this inability to help.

As it was, we were sitting ducks. I could see Luca clenching and unclenching his fists from time to time, his face contorting in pain and self-hatred, an expression that did not suit his soft French features. He, too, wanted to do something, but couldn't.

"My condolences to the poor sod who dared speak of such," I lowered my volume to a whisper. Who knows what would happen to us if we were discovered.

"I know." The blonde laughed nervously. "Oh, now I remember," he snapped his fingers. "It was Valentine's Day. Well, Hell Day for Natsume and me. Not to boast or anything, but we were what you'd call 'heartthrobs.' Even at a young age, girls chased us and showered us with love letters and gifts."

"Oh, I believe you," I remarked dryly.

"Sarcasm?"

I smirked. "I don't know. You tell me."

"Mikan-san..."

"Not sarcastic. Now, on with the story."

"I'll take your word for it," he sighed. "We weren't the only ones running away from crazy admirers. Imai had gained a legion of fan boys. With all our fleeing, the three of us ended up locked in a broom closet. It was cramped, to put it mildly, but at least we were safe from those psychotic fans. We were tired and hungry from all the running. The only food we had was the chocolates the fans somehow tucked into our uniforms. Natsume already mentioned this before: he dislikes sweets. He'd sooner starve himself to death than let those chocolates touch his tongue. Imai declined, saying that white chocolate was for idiots. I didn't really get it, but whatever. Suit yourselves."

"So you ate it all by yourself."

He nodded. "It's not my fault they were being so picky."

"So what happened?"

"Imai took a box from her bag. I could tell that it was not from her admirers; it was hers. She muttered something about being spared from demeaning herself, and untied the ribbon. I nearly dislocated my shoulder trying to read the message on the card. When I finally did, I blurted out 'You have a thing for our geometry teacher?!' without thinking. She shot me thrice on the head, _at pointblank range_."

I snickered, earning myself a scowl from gentle Luca. "What, it's funny," I laughed.

"Not when you're the one at the receiving end of the baka gun," he griped. "Back to Imai. She started eating the chocolates she made for Sir Bencreati. 'That pathetic excuse of a homeroom teacher insists it was compulsory to give chocolates to at least one person,' she said, 'Bencreati happens to be the least irritating.' Then Natsume called me a 'blockhead' for even thinking that an 'ice queen' like Imai could actually have feelings for someone."

"Hyuuga's always been a meanie, I see," I commented.

"He was right, though," Luca was quick to defend his bestie. "Imai hardly showed any emotion. That hasn't changed. So, as expected, another glare off broke out between the two. It went on for minutes, until Imai made Natsume do something he never would."

I raised an eyebrow. "And that is?"

"Eat chocolate."

"How? Blackmail?"

He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure Imai knew of Natsume's food preferences, particularly his low tolerance for sweets. I mean, she knows _everything_. Scary, I know. So when Natsume opened his mouth to speak, she chucked a chocolate into it. It was hilarious. Natsume almost choked, but still. I couldn't hold back my laughter."

My mind involuntarily created an image of Hyuuga coughing and tearing at his throat, all because of a morsel of sweetened cocoa. "Oh my god. That was epic! I wish I'd seen that," I tittered.

Luca smiled. "Natsume's reaction surprised me even more. I was expecting another torturous exchange of witty and scathing comments. Or an all-out fist fight. Then he just asked 'Do all chocolates taste like this?' Curiosity got the better of me. I snatched one of Imai's chocolates, risking her glare and another taste of her baka gun. It was bitter, maybe 100% cocoa. No wonder Natsume didn't blow up."

"Then what happened?"

"To my astonishment, Imai passed the box to Natsume, saying, 'I don't win by default. Now eat, or perish.' Natsume gave her another one of his murderous stares but he ate the chocolates, anyway. We finally got out the next day, when the janitor opened the closet. Since then, Hotaru Imai made chocolates for Natsume Hyuuga every Valentine's Day."

The 'Ice Queen' devoting time to baking heart-shaped treats for her archnemesis? On the culmination of all things romantic, a holiday which both she and the recipient probably considered impractical and nonsensical? I found it difficult to believe, much less envision.

"So did they start dating?" I prodded.

The song of bullets played again, jolting us out of our storytelling. What's with this timing?

"No."

"No?" I repeated. Unknown to him, his reply overwhelmed me with relief. The thumping in my chest transitioned from speedcore to reggae. I felt unburdened of the looming presence that ensnared my heart. Why? Was I secretly hoping that those two weren't romantically involved? How would I have felt if it were otherwise? Chotto matte. Why should I care whether or not Imai and Hyuuga dated?! Ugh. Is this what jealousy feels like? I can't possibly be developing feelings for Hyuuga. I just can't. But why was I feeling like this?

"Imai simply hung out with us," Luca said, "even when she started skipping grades. I couldn't blame her, though, I mean her classmates were really different from us. There's also the age gap to consider." Smiling wanly, he added, "I've always felt guilty about it. Natsume could have accompanied her, with his grades and everything. But he stayed behind. He stayed for me."

I was at a loss for words. Beneath that self-absorbed, perverted, impudent jerk that he so perfectly portrayed, Hyuuga was unbelievably kind and selfless. I'm such a great judge of character. I lowered my head in shame. "I—"

"Mikan-san! Nogi-san!"

We cautiously peeped out of the mausoleum, and found a bloodstained, gun-wielding, and exasperated Yuu. He removed his tattered floral shirt in a flourish, exposing his muscular chest and the countless scars that were scattered all over it. "Are any of you hurt?" he asked.

"We're fine," I answered.

"Where are Natsume and Imai?" Luca inquired.

Yuu began wiping his spectacles with the unstained portion of his discarded garment. Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he pointed at the two raven-haired individuals who were heading in our direction.

"I'm not an invalid, Hyuuga."

"And I'm not blind, Imai. I saw you limping earlier."

Hyuuga was carrying Imai in his arms in a bridal fashion, both glistening with red liquid droplets that adorned their skin like garnets. They were straight out of an action movie, the hero and his damsel-in-distress. I gulped at the way Hyuuga's muscles tightened around her. The sight made me...what? Feel a tinge of...what? Pain? Jealousy? Self-pity? I couldn't put my finger on it; I didn't like it at all.

* * *

Permy almost suffocated me in her embrace. "I was so worried," she breathed on my shoulder. "Don't just disappear like that, you dummy. If something happened..." Her voice broke as she began dampening my skin.

"I'm so sorry, Permy. I'm sorry." I hugged my best friend back. "I'm okay, really. Luca was with me. He's all right, too, by the way," I continued between my sniffles.

Luca threw his arms around the both of us. "I'm glad to see you're unharmed, Sumi-chan. And I'm sorry for ever worrying you," he said with such sincerity.

Anna, Nonoko, Koko, and Kitsuneme joined the group hug shortly after.

"That was even scarier than the rides!" Koko exclaimed.

Permy yanked Koko's sandy hair. "Thanks for saving me, idiot. Now how about you get us some dinner?"

"Yeah!" we all cheered, except for Koko.

"Koko-sama," beckoned an elderly man in a charcoal black suit.

"Ah, Akira," Koko acknowledged the man. "Guys, let's go."

Akira, the butler, escorted us to a pirate ship that bore a striking resemblance to The Black Pearl from the _The Pirates of the Caribbean_ film, with the only difference being the insignia embellishing its banners. Black skeletons decorated the stern and the mast, each one wearing heavily mutilated pirate attire, and carrying a saber, a hook, or any rusty blade. Staying true to the Megalodon brand, the restaurant was never lacking of realistic models of the aquatic beast, be it its head, its jaws, or its full skeleton. A wooden version was mounted beneath the bowsprit.

The maître d' brought us to the deck of the ship, which afforded us a magnificent view of Tokyo Bay. The ten of us were seated around a massive, circular dark wood table, and immediately served the hors-d'œuvre. Food and beverage flowed freely as we dined.

Not wanting to disrupt the 'couple field' surrounding Luca and Permy, I concentrated on eating and observing.

Koko and Kitsuneme were chatting animatedly about some video game. Luca joined the conversation as the twins started a heated discussion regarding some troll, the hand of Midas, a something cuirass, and if I heard correctly, the eye of Skadi. Okay, better tune out of that one. Video games are not my cup of tea.

Fondue, fondant, and chemical formulas I haven't even heard of were on Anna and Nonoko's conversational menu. Nonoko mentioned something about heat-resistant fondant, to which Anna delightedly nodded in approval. That wasn't the right radio station, either.

I turned my attention to the other two people who weren't engaged in an intellectual exchange— the raven twins, Imai and Hyuuga.

Crab shells and pincers piled on Imai's plate, as expected. Wait, so crabs are available now? Wow, the universe is really something. I bitterly took a bite of my braised turkey leg as I watched Imai shatter more crustaceans for their meat.

My eyes darted to Hyuuga, who was emptying his third glass of '73 Château d'Yquem Bordeaux. I think I got the label right. He hardly moved a muscle, except for the occasional glances at his smartphone, and the even rarer ones directed at Luca, Imai, or myself.

His crimson gaze was on me now. I was immobilized.

Permy suddenly elbowed my arm, almost making me release my drumstick. "Imai and Hyuuga are growing more suspicious. Did you see that lover's carry?" she whispered, completely ignoring my complaints.

That foreboding sensation was once again worming its way into my core. Thanks for reminding me, Permy. "Yeah, I did," I replied, keeping any strange undertones out of my voice. "But from what I've heard, there's nothing going on between them."

"Hm," she lifted a brow as she sliced her meat.

"Luca told me," I huffed almost impatiently. Crap, I swallowed slowly, praying that my tone had escaped her keen ears. "They're friends. They have been since second grade," I continued blithely, "You can ask Luca for the full version."

Permy's eyebrows disappeared beneath her greenish black fringes. She pushed another sliver of venison into her mouth, without tearing her eyes from mine. "Is something troubling you, Mikan?"

"I-I'm fine. No worries, Permy. I'm fine," I replied. Liar. Only a fool would believe my reassurance. And Permy was no fool. Her emeralds were brimming with skepticism, and her lips were drawn into a thin line.

"Mikan..."

I set my cutlery on my plate. "Sorry, Koko, which way is your restroom?" Koko whipped his fork in some direction behind me, and I didn't even bother taking note of it. I bowed my head slightly and excused myself from the dining table. I snagged a random bottle from the maître d' and climbed the rope ladder to the crow's nest.

As I reached the platform, the wind was whipping wildly at my skin, making me regret not throwing any clothing over my bikini. I tilted my head back, feeling my waist-length hair sway as I uncorked the bottle of liquor. Without even bothering to identify what I was ingesting, I brought the container to my lips. It felt creamy on my tongue, and then all went dry. I momentarily forgot how exposed I was to the cold as I drank more. I rolled the liquid around my mouth, reveling in the fruity, spicy flavor. Was that citrus?

I slid to the floor, resting my buttocks on the dark wooden planks. I could feel the heat radiating to my extremities. "God, I haven't had something like this in while," I muttered as I intently stared at the golden-green liquor.

"Vieux Pontarlier," a voice chimed in.

Seeing the ghost-like figure, I crawled backwards, wishing I could disappear into the wooden walls. I shut my eyes in dreadful anticipation as the figure inched closer. To my astonishment, instead of ghoulish, rotting phalanges, a cold human hand caressed my cheek. Blinking rapidly, I vigorously shook my head, attempting to clear my hazy vision.

"Ho— Imai-sensei," I slurred.

"Lost, Yukihira-san? Or do you, perhaps, perform your ablutions and excretory functions in places like this?" she said impassively. She snatched the absinthe out of my hands, wafted it swiftly, and took a swig.

"I...you...I just wanted to be alone," I replied absentmindedly.

Imai removed the sheet covering her body, which turned out to be the kaftan that she was sporting earlier, and draped it over my shoulders. "Missing my class because of a cold is unacceptable," she drawled. "And drop the 'sensei.' You're aging me needlessly."

I managed a lopsided smile. "Got it, Imai."

"Hotaru." Her voice was barely over a whisper, so I wasn't sure if I was hallucinating or not. Then she disappeared, as did my Vieux Pontarlier. The fact that the bottle was gone meant she was here; my mind wasn't playing tricks on me just yet. I wrapped the translucent, lilac garment tighter around me.

A few minutes later, Permy jumped into the crow's nest with an unhappy expression on her face. "Imai told me you were here," she murmured almost sulkily.

"I'm really sorry, Permy," I almost wailed. A hollow cackle escaped my lips, and it escalated into an equally empty laugh. Permy pulled me into her arms, and gently stroked my hair. I never realized that I was crying until Permy dried the rivulets streaming from my eyes.

"Is this what you call 'fine,' Mikan?" Permy chided softly. Her brows converged and her lips trembled with anger, but I could tell that she was close to tears from witnessing my pathetic state.

"Permy, I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...I...I'm...I'm not," I sobbed into her hair. She held me tighter as my tremors worsened.

"Shh, Mikan, it's okay," she hushed. "It's okay."

"Permy, don't go. I don't wanna be alone."

"I'm here, I'm here. I'll never leave you," she whispered consolingly.

I closed my eyes, feeling the torrent unleashed by my eyes dry as the wind ran its icy fingers across my skin. With Permy's rhythmic patting, I found my heartrate decreasing, and my breathing regulating. "I don't understand, Permy. For some reason, it hurts. It really does. And I hardly even know him. Why is it like that?"

I choked back a sob that threatened to burst out of me. My best friend silently stroked my back. I knew she knew what I as referring to.

"H-he's just so beautiful...and has such a big heart," I muttered, no longer caring if anyone besides Permy was listening.

"I thought he was a rude, pompous, perverted bastard?" Permy interjected with a genuine laugh.

"That he is," I agreed. "Even then, he's perfect. Yes, too perfect to ignore, to not admire."

Then my eyes started doing what they did best. "I think I'm falling for Natsume Hyuuga."

 **-x-**

Chapter V done.

I hope you're not hating on me for this.

Again, please review. :)  
 **TinyLaments**


	6. Distraction from Destruction

**Author's note:**

Well, the week-long vacation was fun while it lasted. I am now attending those 'pre-field' lectures. Lovely.

Regardless, I shall continue updating. I hope you'll forgive the irregular intervals.

To the guest reviewer who commented "Poor Mikan," worry not. Her moment will arrive soon, I promise. She isn't unloved, you know. :)

 **YellowOrangeRed:** Aww. It warms my heart to know that someone thinks about what I write. Merci.

 **SasusakuIslovely:** Thank you very much. I'm glad you like it.

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **VI: Distraction from Destruction**

 _Then my eyes started doing what they did best. "I think I'm falling for Natsume Hyuuga."_

 **-x-**

"You are expected to submit the final manuscript on the 1st of June. I've already discussed the format earlier, in case you haven't been paying attention. Late submissions will receive a 50% deduction. Now, if there are no more questions, you may leave."

I have roughly one week to write a five-page book review for Jean-Jacques Rousseau's _Discourse on the Origin of Inequality_. I was grateful to Professor Serio for this undertaking, since it will effectively divert my attention from my hopelessly muddled emotions. My brain cells shall not be wasted on determining the state of a certain ravenhead's heart. And with the midterms just around the corner, I was left with even less time for procrastination. All hail bureaucracy and unequal political institutions.

"You dropped this," a deep, seductive voice disrupted my contemplation.

"Ah, thanks," I said graciously as I retrieved my eraser from the kind man who picked it up for me. I nearly jumped out of my seat when I realized whose palm my fingers were touching. Mobility abandoned me shortly after I lost the ability to speak.

"Polka, my hand," Hyuuga said impatiently.

I gulped, trying my hardest to keep my wits about me while enduring his piercing stare. What was wrong with his hand? "Oh dear god," I cursed under my breath and quickly retracted my arm.

"If you want to hold hands with me that badly, you ought to inform me," he taunted, "instead of resorting to such tactics."

I turned my head away to conceal the redness spreading across my face. "Who would want to touch _those things_?"

"You."

"Of all the brazen— hell will sooner freeze over," I huffed as I made my way to the door.

The noontime meal did little to alleviate the unpleasant mood I've borne since that distressing math quiz from first period, and that embarrassing encounter with that narcissistic jerk. The cafeteria lady accidentally served me spicy tonkotsu ramen. Due to the unexpected, overwhelming piquancy, I unwittingly flung my chopsticks at some redheaded woman two tables down. Noodles and pork-bone soup became her newest hair implements, along with the bamboo eating utensils.

"What on _earth_ are you doing?" Permy hissed, lightly pinching my arm.

I steeled myself for a tirade of insults and curses, and possibly a plate of food hurled at my face, only to witness the aforementioned woman launch her bowl of spaghetti at a male student who had just come out of the cafeteria line.

Not bothering to wipe the tomato sauce off his face, the male splattered the redhead's friend with a gravy-filled Shepherd's Pie. Each plateful of food was returned in kind. Even previously uninvolved individuals had taken the liberty of disposing of their expensive, world-class meals in the most barbaric of manners, and before I knew it, I had just started a full-blown food fight.

"What have I done?" I asked no one in particular.

Permy and Luca sighed and shook their heads. Koko applauded my ability to instigate fights without getting burned.

Starting a food fight and emerging from it unscathed? In its own strange way, it was an impressive accomplishment, one I would appreciate more had it not been for the emotional turmoil I was experiencing. The problem with lunch was that it drew me closer to Economics, where Hyuuga will be seeing Imai, and vice versa. Imai's presence delighted me, and Hyuuga was simply pleasing to the senses no matter how unbearably vexatious he may be, but interactions between him and her somehow left a bitter taste in my mouth.

According to Luca, Imai and Hyuuga never dated. Friends, that's all they were. Why did it seem otherwise? Have I been deceived? I cannot dismiss that possibility, considering how Luca's allegiance would naturally lie with his best friend, his long-time confidant, and lover, had they been homosexual. Am I now getting riled up over Natsume and Luca's intimacy? What the hell is wrong with me?

Hyuuga gracefully sauntered into the room like a royal personage stepping off his carriage unto a red carpet. Today was hot, 90 degrees, yet he opted for a navy blue v-neck long-sleeve top that showcased his god-like musculature. The image of his bare chest was still fresh in my mind, so vivid that I can almost see it through his shirt. Great. Now I'm sounding like a pervert.

The clicking of heels against the marble floors interrupted my browsing of my mental snapshots of Hyuuga. Imai was as classy and modelesque as ever, sporting a black chiffon mini dress with a Peter Pan collar and mesh sleeves. She treated the class with her usual glacial mien, a thing of hers that I've grown to hate, love, and envy. If I'd had something like that, I could mask the disgusting outbursts from my hypothalamus and deal with even the most harrowing of matters with a calm and collected demeanor.

She rummaged through the drawers for a marker and wrote down the topic of today's discussion on the board. I listened attentively, as I always did whenever she spoke, only this time taking proper notice of Hyuuga's expressions. They were typically of indifference and boredom, but his lips would sometimes curl into a microscopic smile whenever Imai made short sarcastic remarks between her lectures.

"By the end of this week, you will be presenting me with the final topics and the preliminary drafts of your research papers," she said as she set the boardmarker on the table. "Failure to fulfill this requirement will result in the deduction of your highest possible grade to an 85%. Submissions beyond the deadline, regardless of quality, will not be accepted."

The class went silent at this.

"Devote the remaining half hour to conceptualizing your papers. If you wish to seek counsel, do not hesitate to approach me." She took her seat and brought out another one of those scientific publications she often indulges in.

I was filled with content as I reviewed what I've written so far. Not too shabby for a fifteen-minute work.

"I want your opinion on this."

Hyuuga was hunched over the table, elbows propped atop it and eyes intently watching the person seated behind it. Imai held the sheet of paper between her fingers, skimming through it with her sharp purple eyes. As she scribbled notes with her pen, Hyuuga leaned closer, brushing his bangs against her forehead.

What the hell is that jerkass doing?! It took all of my self-control to not spring from my seat and harshly yank him by his raven locks. Whatever history they might have had in the past does not and cannot excuse such audacity. This is just wrong. _Wrong_ , I tell you. She's his teacher, for Pete's sake!

She returned the paper to him and began discussing the feasibility of his topic, lifting her face to meet his eyes. Her movement made their noses collide.

I exploded on the inside. Was the class not seeing this? Was everyone completely blind? Of course not. My classmates were simply too absorbed in their brainstorming to notice anything besides their work.

My fingers involuntarily scrunched up my notepad, ruining even the thicker cardboard covering. Adieu to my two thousand-word write up on looser credit standards. I was preparing to throw the crumpled paper at Hyuuga when my target was brutally propelled backwards. Hyuuga collapsed on one of the desks, making the occupant titter, drool on his face, and then lose consciousness. The characteristic intellectual din of the classroom dissolved into horrified gasps and melodious chants of Hyuuga's given name.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, suppressing my laughter until my abdominal muscles cramped. Sympathy and remorse were currently out of my vocabulary. I didn't feel bad at all. I couldn't decide which was funnier: that stupid fan girl's overreaction to her beloved idol falling before her, or the fact that Natsume Hyuuga's advances were violently rejected with a blast from a gigantic cannon.

Imai looked upon him apathetically, blowing the smoke off a device which I believe was the source of Luca's pain and misery in his younger days: the 'baka gun.' Or more appropriately, in my own humble opinion, the 'baka bazooka.' The gun shrunk to the size of a rubiks cube. "My auditory organs are perfectly functional. Such close proximity is unwarranted," she stated while depositing the cube into her bag. "Mr. Hyuuga, I look forward to seeing you in detention."

* * *

"Oh my god. He did what? A bazooka?" was Permy's reaction to my summary of the events that transpired during that rather exhilarating Economics period.

"Absolutely shameless, I know. And then bam! I did not see that coming. You should've seen the look on his face. It was _priceless_. He totally deserved it," I replied ecstatically.

Luca blanched, obviously pitying his best friend. The look he gave me was _almost_ disapproving. "An hour of detention, huh? I guess the years haven't made Imai kinder," he said.

A sadistic smile made its way unto Permy's gloss-covered lips. Hm, sketchy, sketchy Permy. That twinkle in her eyes plainly spelled 'evil.'

"Thinking of getting one to use on Koko?" I tried my luck.

She smiled smugly. "You know me too well."

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the decline of all mankind, when females collectively decide to deprive men of the capability for reproduction." Hyuuga occupied the seat beside me. Why must he always materialize out of nowhere in such moments?

"Don't tell me she hit you in the— And I thought _I_ was having a bad day," I guffawed, watching his eyebrows crease in irritation. "Smooth. Really smooth, Hyuuga."

"Mikan-san," Luca warned, his baby blue sapphires begging me to stop trampling the dragon's tail. Like hell I will. Hyuuga never misses the opportunity to annoy and humiliate me on a daily basis. It would be unbecoming of me not to return the favor, would it not?

"Miss Imai, the 'ice queen,' resisting _the_ Natsume Hyuuga? How baffling," I teased.

His face exhibited no visible change. "Shut up, Polka."

I clicked my tongue. "You're not unappealing, not with how you've captivated many others." After reconsideration, I immediately added a 'myself excluded, of course.'

"Maybe Hyuuga's not her type?" Permy suggested. Luca gently enveloped her hand with his fingers, attempting to ease her out of participating in chaffing Hyuuga. Cunning man. How dare he manipulate Permy? My best friend looked at their intertwined fingers questioningly before giving the blonde an affectionate smile. Ugh.

"Nonsense. I'm every woman's type," Hyuuga replied arrogantly.

"Not ours, nor Imai's," Permy and I high-fived.

Hyuuga shrugged and silently ran his fingers through his hair, ignoring our claim of not being enthralled by his wiles. I imagined how that wild mane would feel against my fingertips. Light, silky, like the touch of an angel perhaps? GOD NO. Scratch all that silky angel bullshit. Rough and greasy is the proper characterization. It must be really rough and greasy from all the hair product he dumps on it. There is no way his hair naturally looks like that, all tousled and spiky and hot.

"Ooh, maybe males aren't her type?" I offered.

Permy scoffed, Luca frowned, and Hyuuga, well, cracked the knuckles of his right hand one by one. Okay, I think I've taken the provocation too far. I must brace myself for the raging dragon's flames.

"Imai is many things," Hyuuga drawled, "a scheming genius, a gun-wielding witch, a blackmailing bitch, a crazy inventor; the list goes on. But homosexual is not one of them." His intonation was dead as an undisturbed crypt, but his flaming red irises, oh, they were livid. Glimpsing my reflection in his eyes, I felt ashamed, appalled, absolutely disgusted. Guilt began to consume me as the realization that I have offended him gravely dawned on me.

"Look, Hyuuga. I'm sorry. I didn't mea—"

"A wondrous afternoon, my beautiful class!" A prancing Narumi graced the room with his presence, wearing nothing but a strip of linen artfully wound about his privates. Dazzling white wings, a quiver of heart-shaped arrows, and a red longbow completed the ridiculous getup. Is the tiniest sliver of normalcy too great a demand? Being a fashion eccentric like Permy is one thing; throwing on any outrageous costume that catches your fancy is just bananas. I am not discriminant of the genders besides male and female. I am not a homophobe and I bear no ill will against the members of the LGBTQ. But this man...if he even is one, ugh! He's an educator at Tokyo's premiere university, **the prestigious Alice University.** He ought to act like one.

Still, there are those rare moments when his overbearing cheeriness actually lifts my spirits. I'm not really one to speak, as Permy pointed out several times that I'm too much of a blissful idiot, one who smiles too brightly, acts too rashly, and walks down rainbows riding a unicorn. Her description of me sounds terribly mean, especially with the word 'idiot' attached to it, but it's incredibly heartwarming. Even with the harshest of insults, Permy means well.

Anyway, there has been far too much seriousness and competition and scheming and backstabbing involved in the academe that I'd gladly be relieved of, even for a very brief period of time. Just some easy, lighthearted learning, like this particular class.

"Our next activity will hone your communication and socializing skills," Narumi announced, rubbing his hands in delight. Not good. Oh heavens, what is it now? I slowly took in the two words written in Narumi's stylish cursive script. BLIND DATE.

The reaction time was amazing. Like beasts abruptly released from a zoo, the fan girls set out to stake their claims on Hyuuga and Luca sooner than I could blink.

"Kyaaaaa~! Natsume-sama, go out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"I'm all yours, my prince."

"No! Natsume-sama and the likes of you?! Fat chance. He's asking ME."

"Luca is MIIIIIIIIIIIINEEEEEEEE."

Narumi emphatically cleared his throat, and for once, the class was at his beck and call. "Ladies, I think you missed the first word. You're not given the privilege of choosing who your date will be." The rabid bimbos groaned in frustration at this declaration.

"Now, now," Narumi continued, "we're leaving that to chance." From underneath the table, he produced a pink, heart-shaped box decorated with glitters and the bejeweled words 'Date Lottery.'

"Won't there be a risk of getting someone of the same sex?" questioned one of my male classmates.

Narumi chuckled. "Have no fear." Another box appeared, identical to the first one in every way, except for the color. It was periwinkle.

The class was instructed to form lines, with the males in front of the pink box, and the females in front of the periwinkle one. The draws elicited an expected variety of reactions; disappointment and sadness from the females, especially those who were harboring hopes of picking Hyuuga or Luca, relieved and contented sighs from the males who managed to snag a date with their desired women, and of course, plaintive moans and curses from the unfortunate ones. I wasn't sure what category I fell into.

"You'll have to submit a detailed documentation of your date _individually_ ," Narumi said. "It can be in the form of a paper, a scrapbook, a video, or a tape recording. If you're settling for the recording, you'll have to provide pictures, to prove that you've actually gone out and not just wrote and taped a script."

"Hmm, 5," Permy dangled the heart cutout between her thumb and her forefinger.

"Finally. You're going out with me," Luca said gleefully, displaying his cutout which bore the same number as Permy's. I smiled and winked at her, mouthing 'congratulations.'

Permy returned my gesture with her classic eyeroll. "Whatever. Who's yours?"

"I don't know. Who's number 17?" I called out. Suddenly, the entire Natsume/Luca fanclub population was giving me the death glare. Had they been blessed with fangs and claws, they'd have leaped at me, injecting me with venom and viciously ripping out my innards. A flat object hit me square on the face. I finally understood why.

"Polka, that's me."

* * *

Saturday arrived sooner than expected. I had already printed my book review; all that remained was to hand it over to Serio come Monday. Imai seemed thoroughly pleased with my research paper draft, notifying me via email that it was, by far, among all the submissions, the least vacuous, having caused the destruction of relatively fewer of her neurons. I wondered what she thought of Hyuuga's work. Idiot, you're thinking about him again.

"Show up in _that_ and Hyuuga will drop you off at some monastery in Fujimi," Permy commented, all tact lost to her. I love your brutal honesty, but can't you sugarcoat things once in a while?

"Not everyone is as daring as Sumire Shouda," I retorted, twirling around in front of the mirror in my maroon dress. It was a tad long, ankle-length to be precise, and had sleeves that reached past my elbows. I topped it with a grey sleeveless knitted bolero. I didn't feel the need to expose too much skin, especially around _him_ , that perverted jerk.

"Atrocious," she shook her head disapprovingly and began stripping me.

"Perm—Permy, hey! I can sue you for sexual harassment."

"Oh, shut up. Put those on." She threw a heap of clothing and accessories at my underwear-clad body. "When you're through, I'll do your hair and makeup."

Minutes of torture later, I was given the chance to examine Permy's handiwork. I was wearing a strapless white lace dress that flowed two inches above my knees. It was immaculate, with a sweetheart neckline that radiated sweetness with seduction without being too revealing. Mindful of the time and weather, she threw in an acid wash denim jacket, which barely brushed past my waist. I couldn't but smile at my wedge bootie-clad feet. With these four-inch heels, Hyuuga won't tower over me that much, unless he decides to adopt Serio's shoe fashion, a highly unlikely scenario.

I marveled at the auburn hair that cascaded down my shoulders in elegant ringlets. Permy made a splendid hairdresser. What she referred to as 'makeup' earlier was actually a smattering of rouge on my cheeks and a thin coating of Revlon Super Lustrous™ Sky Line Pink. I should appoint her as my personal stylist. She's never going to agree to that, but a woman can dream, can't she?

"Your skin is in great condition," she said proudly, "no need to paint you like a clown."

"Oh my golly, Permy! You're the best," I squealed happily and thanked her with a hearty hug.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She strapped a silver bangle to my wrist and squirted my nape with perfume. Yup, sandalwood. "There. Perfect," she smiled as she studied my look one last time.

I planted a light kiss on her cheek. "Be back soon."

"Be very careful, Mikan."

"Chill, Perms." I fished out a can of mace from my purse. "And I can endanger his family jewels again with _these_ ," I lifted my foot off the ground to prove my point.

Permy's expression grew stern. "You know what I mean."

I know, Permy, I know. I locked the door behind me and rode down the elevator.

"Can you move any slower?" Hyuuga said as soon as I came through the doors.

I could barely hold back the urge to put my booties to good use. The asshole was lounging on a couch in the lobby, sipping on a glass of white wine. He was brandishing his roguish charms with his black bomber jacket and ripped designer jeans. Kudos for the leather boots, although more heel would have been in order if he were emulating that moody PS prof. Needless to say, Hyuuga looked dark and dangerous. And hot.

I didn't bother voicing out the compliment. "Whatever. Let's just get this over with."

He glanced at me briefly, flashing me that rare, genuine smile. I swore my heart just palpitated. "You look great, Polka."

Oh fudge, I was blushing. "You don't look so bad yourself, pervert."

* * *

"NO. No way in hell am I getting on that."

"Too pampered for this, are we, Yukihira-hime?"

Natsume Hyuuga was forcing me to ride a vehicle not with four wheels, but a mere two. TWO!

"The last time I got on something with less than four wheels, I ended up floating in the Tyrrhenian Sea. And that was just a freaking Vespa," I blurted out. "And now, you expect me to ride that speed demon of a motorcycle?!"

"Yes," he replied with a smirk.

"I'm not planning on dying early."

He scoffed. "That accident of yours proves nothing other than how much of a ditz you are. How the hell does a Vespa end up in the Tyrrhenian anyway?"

"The Sicilian mob was after me. I had no choice but to flee," I argued. "Long, dreadful tale involving some sheep, bloodhounds, and an old busted motorboa— we're getting off topic. Four wheels, or no date."

"You're being unreasonable, Polka."

"And you're trying to kill me."

"Do you really think I'm as clumsy and idiotic as you are?"

"That's besides the point. And I'm not an idiot."

"You're being one right now."

"Grade A jackass. Where are your bloody Lamborghinis when I need them?"

"In my garage. Now get on."

"No."

"Don't you trust me?"

"Do I really have to answer that?"

"You won't even feel a thing. I drive so carefully I won't even rouse a sleeping infant."

I sighed. I tried finding consolation in knowing that if I die, he's going down with me. "Fine."

He tossed me a helmet and motioned for me to sit down behind him. When I was all set, he started the engine, revved, and we were off.

Not rousing a sleeping infant? It wasn't a lie, not entirely anyway. The freaking baby would be dead in a flash! And the dead never woke, unless you're in some horror or science-fiction movie, or our current technology had sustained sufficient significant developments to allow such a phenomenon.

I had no choice but to grab onto his torso and cling for dear life as we sped down the streets of Tokyo like a bullet train on steroids. It was as if the traffic lights never even existed. This guy...

"Are you blind?! It's red!" I screamed in his ear. "Red! Your fucking favorite color!"

"Glad you remembered," he replied calmly.

"What the—we could've rammed into that van." My eyes slammed shut as we zoomed past the law-abiding four-wheeled vehicle. "No no no no no there's an old la—Red means stop, you shit!"

"And waving a red flag can halt bulls."

"So you're a male bovine now?!"

Hyuuga hit the clutch and made a sharp turn to the left, sending a garbage can flying at a poor, unsuspecting hotdog stand. Inconsiderate asshole. I crumpled a wad of bills and threw it at the vendor who was mourning the loss of his meager livelihood. I hope he caught it.

We were nearing the outskirts of the city, judging by the decreasing number of edifices and the thickening of the shrubbery. My heart began rattling around my ribcage. Was he planning to—No. No, he wouldn't. Or would he? Was this his vengeance for last Monday? Damn it.

"Natsume, where _the hell_ are you taking me?!"

 **-x-**

Chapter VI done.

What do you think?

Please drop a review. Thank you very much. :)

 **TinyLaments**


	7. Because Restaurants Are Overrated

**Author's note:**

I'm sorry about the delay, although I did mention in my previous note that I won't be updating as regularly as before. Again, I apologize.

Reading your reviews make me smile. Thank you very much for taking time to leave them.

I actually do not oppose the NatsumexHotaru pairing. It's quite difficult to picture, yes, but it's not appalling or anything like that. For me, at least. Despite this, I'd like to reiterate, **this is not a Hotsume fic.** :)

 **spica14:** I was having difficulty planning their date. But I was sure I didn't want it to be the typical fancy restaurant thingy. I hope this chapter will be to your liking.

 **YellowOrangeRed:** I totally empathize with the 'poor' protagonist. The hidden affection, the suffering from it all...oh, I'm not a sadist. Like I said, she isn't unloved. :)

 **Ayame-hime 11d7:** I've no clue. Oh, and thank you for the 'Follow' and the 'Favorite.'

 **SakuraPetals13:** Telling you straight would certainly ruin the fun now, wouldn't it? :D

 **Cookie Cake L0v3r:** What plot? lol. Kidding. Thank you very much. :)

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **VII: Because Restaurants Are Overrated**

 _Natsume, where the hell are you taking me?_

 **-x-**

I was a broken record, repeatedly demanding, in several variations, where our destination was.

There was nothing but trees, trees, and...what do you know, more trees in my line of sight. My two-wheeled ferry to the underworld had decelerated, now tearing through this godforsaken woodland in the middle of who-knows-where at beyond eighty miles per hour. Despite the 50% speed reduction, my heart was vigorously rattling in my ribcage and my arms were growing tighter and tighter around him like a boa constrictor.

"Are you trying to asphyxiate me?"

Those were the first words he uttered since he whisked me away from civilization atop this four cylinder monstrosity. I maintained my iron hold, reveling in the tautness of his upper body beneath my palms. Just how many people get to throw their arms around this man and live to see tomorrow? His family, naturally, unless he's that cold to deny them physical displays of affection. Then there's Luca, his bff—I'm sure they're bound to share manly brotherly hugs. Then Imai...uh, I don't even want to think about it. And now me. Tonight, I have him all—

I shuddered at the perverseness of that thought. Yuck. I'm transforming into something I don't know.

"You can speak, huh? Tired of playing mute?" I bit back, annoyance blatant in my voice. "I've been asking you the same single question all this time _. Not once_ have you replied. Where. Are. You. Taking. Me?" I managed to rid my sentence of any expletives, although my mental cursing was threatening to break out from my head.

No response. Everything stopped zooming past me and I was violently smashed against his leather-covered back.

"You stupid, homicidal shithead! Do you have _any_ idea...good grief!"

I was rendered speechless by the breathtaking scenery. It was a clearing like no other. Wisteria lined the perimeter, boasting a canopy reminiscent of a purplish/pinkish Aurora Borealis. The ground seemed to be contesting the beauty of the dangling purple blossoms with its multi-colored blanket of tulips. The dull forest floor was streaked with red, white, yellow, and lavender. Amidst this impossibly ethereal forest was a majestic lake. Its pristine waters bathed in the moon's radiance, beckoning me to immerse myself and just be swallowed by its luminance.

"Does this answer your question?" Hyuuga parked the motorcycle and took off his helmet. He was like a knight dismounting from his stallion, ready to sweep his princess off her feet. Shit. Shit. Shit. I mentally slapped myself. Why am I likening this scoundrel to the supposed valiant and honorable protectors of the medieval times? More importantly, I wasn't his princess. This, unfortunately, wasn't one of those fairytales with happy endings. It was a mere social interaction, not between two individuals in a romantic relationship, but rather, one done for the sake of academic standing.

"Oi, come here," he said not unkindly, taking my hand and leading me toward a candlelit table by the lake. Moonlight, flowers, and lakeside candlelight dinner? Who knew Natsume Hyuuga could be this romantic?

"This place is beautiful, Hyuuga." I could no longer contain my amazement. Neither could I deny the fact that this touching of hands, subtle and seemingly insignificant as it may be, left me all giddy. His hand was surprisingly soft and warm. It was so reassuring, his touch, that it made me think that it was okay to let go, to fall. Because he will certainly be there to catch me.

"Hn." He pulled out a chair and ushered me to sit down.

"Why thank you, Hyuuga. Didn't know you had even a shred of gentlemanliness in you," I beamed as I occupied the seat.

"Tch. Have I not always been a gentleman?" he said. A cold emptiness engulfed me as I felt the warmth of his hand leave mine. I shivered involuntarily. Was I in too deep already? I leaned back in my chair, shaking off those bothersome thoughts. This was supposed to, as Narumi put it, 'hone our communication and socializing skills,' right? Brooding and moping do not exactly accomplish that goal.

I scoffed. "Right. And there's a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow."

He shrugged and spread a napkin over his lap. "Hungry yet, pig?"

"Do you not realize how foolish and fatal it is to comment on a woman's weight?"

"What woman?" He snorted.

"You, when I'm done with your genitals." I glowered menacingly at his mocking expression.

"We have a lovely evening ahead of us," he stated flatly. He was probably exercising extreme vigilance, especially after the 'baka bazooka' escapade. Well, he ought to be. With that innate impudence and arrogant attitude, he'd surely be extinguishing any hopes of his parents having grandchildren.

"You're the one ruining the atmosphere with your snide comments," I retorted.

A black tuxedo came into view, a stark contrast to the vibrancy provided by the surrounding flora. To be fair, with our present attires, all three of us were undeniably incongruous to the landscape. Acknowledging us with a bow, the man served us petite quiche lorraines.

"Not bad. It's nearly better than Imelda's," I said after swallowing a mouthful of the buttery pastry. Imelda was top caliber, but her version of quiche failed to tantalize my tastebuds as much as this other chef's. "Wanna swap cooks, Hyuuga?"

"I have no plans to slave away in your kitchens."

I stopped eating instantly. "Y-you...cooked this?"

"No. I ordered it from a drive-thru we passed by earlier," he drawled sarcastically.

"Aren't you full of surprises."

A delicious serving of seared duck breast followed the appetizer. The orange sauce struck the perfect balance between sweet and tangy, and the duck was cooked impeccably, as indicated by the succulent meat's glorious shade of pink.

Wow. He can cook...and he actually did so for me. Amazement and admiration gradually morphed into embarrassment and insecurity when the realization that my cooking was way inferior to his hit me like a grand piano. What kind of wife would that make me? Whenever I envisioned my future, I could see myself in the kitchen, spatula in hand and apron over my dress, pouring my heart into our daily meals. Living a happy and peaceful life with my husband and our kids. Holy garbanzos. Married life and domestic bliss? With him?!

"Thoughts, Miss All-I-Do-Is-Eat?" Hyuuga asked, as if he'd read my mind and found out that the best I could come up with was a half-decent apple pie.

"H-hey...that's not true," I said indignantly. "I'm not some rich spoiled brat."

"Whoever said you were?" He raised his arms and mocked surrender.

"W-well...you were implying it," I accused.

"I do not recall any such thing. No need to be jittery, Polka. This is a date, not a police interrogation." Something akin to understanding flashed in his eyes. He was smirking again. What now? "Don't tell me this is your first date?"

The white tablecloth received tiny splashes of orange as my fork landed on my sauce-filled plate. I opened my mouth for a few seconds, closed it as an afterthought, and opened it once again. "First d-date? What am I, two? Hyuuga, FYI, I've gone on date _s_ before," I stated, emphasizing that it was not just the one.

He raised a brow in silent question. "And I've seen Jesus walk on water."

This sick, bipolar psycho! One minute, he's a kind gentleman, and the next he's back to his default asshole mode. So fucking annoying! How can I have feelings for such a creature?! These booties really needed to kick something.

"Are you suggesting that I'm so undesirable that no one would go out with me?!" I fumed. A single slip of a tongue, and this romantic evening will turn into Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Hey, at least he gets to be buried in this picturesque grave.

"Precisely," he replied in a heartbeat.

"Why you—! Prepare for a world of hurt," I growled. I moved my leg to kick him, but before my foot could even touch his crotch, he grabbed my ankle. The contact was titillating, shooting electricity through my veins, and leaving me willing his hand to inch higher up my limb. Oh god...stop! There are certain things that should never cross one's mind during inopportune times like this. Just shut up, imagination. Shut up.

"Do you always behave like this on your dates?" he taunted as he released my leg.

I tried to focus on my savory duck, hoping to erase the strange stirring in the pits of my lower abdomen. "Only when my date happens to be a giant pain in the ass named Natsume Hyuuga," I answered. "How can those women stand going out with you, anyway?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

I was close to facepalming. "I'm sorry for even asking."

He continued stuffing his mouth with portions of duck meat, and I would have to cruelly tear my eyes from his luscious lips. Every move Hyuuga made somehow turned out to be criminally sexy, and that included wiping the stains on the edges of his mouth with his tongue. No, no. That's completely disgusting! Use some damn serviettes, you seductive neanderthal!

"Ever had a boyfriend?" he asked out of the blue.

The sudden inquiry made a flush creep up my neck and onto my cheeks. "O-of course I have. Stop treating me like a child."

"Mm-hm."

"Making the entire female population your girlfriend is not the proof of virility. It's just pathetic and sad to be flitting from one woman to the next like a girl experimenting with her wardrobe."

"Tsk. There you go again with your hasty generalizations. Who said I had many girlfriends?"

I looked at him as though he had just claimed that the earth was flat. "Umm, _duh._ Everyone's always gossiping about 'Natsume-sama's queen.' In addition to that, you're hardly ever seen without a girl. You're—"

"Dating doesn't automatically mean boyfriend or girlfriend," he interrupted.

Oddly enough, that comment really stung. Perhaps the brunt of the pain stemmed from what remained unsaid. We were on a date, but we were not in a relationship. He was not my boyfriend, and I was not his girlfriend.

"...I knew that."

"Hn."

"So, how many girlfriends have you had?"

"How many boyfriends have you had?"

"I asked you first."

"And I am being the 'gentleman' that you insist I be. Ladies first."

"That's not how that works, stupid!"

"I bet the answer is zero."

"Go to hell! If you must know, I've had three."

"Whore," he coughed, taunting me yet again with that devilish smirk of his. "Whatever happened to your talk of how pathetic and sad having a multitude of lovers is?"

I angrily threw my knife at his head, hitting him on the nose with the blunt edge. "I thought we were talking about me, not you. Let me make things perfectly clear: my relationship with each one of them occurred at distinct, different times. I didn't _juggle_ them around like you do."

"Assuming again."

"What?"

Instead of answering my question, Natsume reached for his wine glass. As he drained its contents, the waiter arrived with dessert. An enormous bowl of Howalon was presented before me. A half-foot tall mountain of milky, cloud-like decadence— it was absolutely divine! The sweet fluffiness almost distracted me from Natsume's words. Almost.

"I've never had a girlfriend."

I was coughing from choking on a whole piece of Howalon. He handed me a glass of water, which I greedily gulped down. "You're kidding," I managed when I finally dislodged the chunk of food clogging my esophagus.

"I'm not."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Believe whatever you want to believe."

I pushed another Howalon into my mouth. They were delicious to begin with, yet somehow, ever since Natsume's denial of the existence of his previous girlfriends, the pleasure derived from eating them skyrocketed by orders of magnitude. I was morbidly happy, not that I'd let him know.

Seeing that I had finished my dessert, he mechanically rose from his seat and offered me his hand. "Let's go."

"What? Where? Oh no. Not again. Not that infernal contraption," I protested as I let him drag me away from the table.

He turned around, giving me a scowl. "Would you rather walk back to Tokyo?"

That shut me up. "Well...I..."

"I wasn't taking you home yet. Do you have somewhere else to be?"

"N-no."

We walked to the southern portion of the lake, where a quaint rowboat awaited us. No engines, no motors, no propellers. It was a plain wooden boat whose fuel was human strength. It had a rustic elegance imparted by its faded, timeworn appearance, which practically declared a certain degree of sentimentality on the part of its owner. Flecks of red paint stubbornly clung to several portions of the hull that were untouched by water. Did this belong to Natsume?

With my hand still comfortably wrapped in his, I carefully positioned myself on the watercraft. In as much as the idea of plunging into the tranquil waters tempted me, I was in no condition for swimming, not with my state of dress. Carrying a bottle of chardonnay wine and two glasses, Natsume stepped into the boat. A lovely evening, indeed. A boat ride underneath the moonlight was one fantasy I had never expected to be granted anytime soon, and with none other than Natsume Hyuuga to boot. God, I just wanted to melt all over him.

"Commitment issues?" I quizzed as we began gliding across the lake.

"Hm?"

"Are you afraid of commitment? Is that why you never make things official?"

"Don't you all think the same," he remarked tonelessly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Infidelity, fear of commitment— the same old bullshit. Women often assume the worst in men," he said, nonchalantly swirling the wine in his glass. "The end goal was always to get into your pants. One night of torrid sex later, we're back to being strangers."

I stared at my own glass before taking a sip. The wine was dry. "Isn't that how it always ends? First, the fairytale, the match made in heaven. A few weeks of pure bliss. And then he demands the 'proof of love.' She forgets all common sense and gives her everything to him, only to be left completely and utterly broken, thrown like a used and dried rag."

He scoffed. "Classic soap opera. Was that the denouement for all your love stories?"

" _Please_. I'm a virgin," I declared proudly.

"Why am I not surprised."

I blushed. "Hmph! It may be old-fashioned, or even obsolete, but I still value my chastity."

"Your kind is on the brink of extinction," he said with a smirk.

"No thanks to the likes of you. Don't you ever worry about catching STDs?"

"I don't fuck indiscriminately."

"Still."

"Are you under the impression that I just go around shagging random women?"

"For the second time tonight, do I really have to answer that?"

Without warning, his hand flew to my face, capturing my chin between his silken fingers. I almost dropped the fine glassware. His thumb tentatively hovered above my lips, which were slightly parted in shock and anticipation. I felt compelled to gaze into his eyes. My loins were lit aflame by his hypnotic stare. Had it not been for the wooden structures cradling my buttocks, I'd be nestling against the lake bottom with the Loch Ness Monster.

Anywhere. Look anywhere. Look at anything. Anything but that intoxicating vampire-like visage. His face neared mine, making my hazel orbs widen, then slam shut. Damn you, Hyuuga!

"Pig. You even eat like one."

I opened my eyes. What was that word? _Disappointed._ I was disappointed that he was only demonstrating his concern for appearances and hygiene. Disappointed that he wasn't attempting to steal my first kiss. Disappointed that he was making my heart flutter and he didn't even know it.

"Were you expecting anything else?" he said as he resumed rowing.

 _I was._ That answer, however, did not pop out of my mouth."Hah, like what? A kiss? You really are a modern-day Narcissus." _If only you knew..._

"Your puckering appears to contradict your statement."

"Not everyone wants your kiss, Hyuuga," I said in the coldest voice I could possibly muster. He had not even an inkling of my frustration, of how unnamed symphonies played whenever he effortlessly fiddled with my heartstrings. I directed my gaze to the lush Wisteria blossoms, unintentionally reminding myself of someone.

The corners of my lips twitched involuntarily. "For example, Imai."

He was midway through lifting the wine glass to his lips when he paused. "Why pray tell do you insist on bringing that wretched woman into our conversations?"

"Wretched? You seemed to think otherwise when you 'rescued' her from those hit men. Or when you tried to 'aid her defective hearing' a few days ago." My accusatory tone could rival that of a housewife reprimanding her workaholic husband for his increased overtimes and a suspected affair.

"I am under no obligation to justify myself to you," he stated dismissively.

"True, but that can't stop me. Human beings are naturally inclined to curious things, you see. And your actions, particularly those towards a certain genius inventor, are curious indeed."

"You seem obsessed with her. Maybe that 'homosexual' comment was actually directed to yourself."

I felt my eyebrows converging. How dare he question my sexuality? I am a heterosexual woman who was hopelessly besotted with Captain Oblivious. "How in hell did you arrive at that _stupid_ conclusion? If anything, it's _you_ who's obsessed. Why else would someone stare at the same person for _two straight hours_?"

"Is that jealousy I hear, Polka?"

"Stop changing the subject," I cut in crisply. "You obviously have the hots for our Economics teacher."

"How can I possibly like that greedy, emotionally-challenged bitch?"

 _You tell me._ "I've no clue," I put tartly. "I'm not you, Hyuuga. But no matter how much you deny it, it's plain as day that you do like her."

"Who's making stupid conclusions now?"

"Mine aren't completely baseless. My 'homosexuality,' on the other hand, is a claim without grounds."

"Your evidence is just as circumstantial as mine."

"Is that so? Dark chocolates from Hotaru every Valentine's?"

Hit the nail on the head. Now neglecting the vintage, he pinned me to my seat without so much as lifting a finger, mercilessly stabbing me with his virtual daggers. Can something be bone-chilling and scalding at the same time? Because I was currently experiencing that phenomenon.

"Luca told you."

"Don't you blame him," I interjected immediately. "My persistent questioning was too much for him." I had no intention nor did I reserve the right to jeopardize a decade-long friendship over such a trifling matter. One rocky friendship was enough, if one could consider my relationship with Hyuuga as such.

"What else did he tell you?" I could feel his mounting desire to tie me in chains and push me off the boat.

"Just that you three attended the same school in France, and that you refused acceleration. Nothing more, nothing less."

"His face was laced with suspicion. "You're certain?"

"Jeez, Hyuuga, chill," I nearly spilled my wine on his face with my dramatic gestures, "You're being so edgy. It's a date, right? Yes, I'm sure. That's all I got from him."

His eyes traveled back to the colorless liquor before closing momentarily. He sighed and lifted his eyes to the full moon. "Quit sticking your nose into others' business, Polka. It might get you killed someday."

I drowned myself in the sight of the moonlit lake. I've encountered one too many television shows, movies, and other forms of literature depicting meddlesome fools and their gruesome deaths to understand the dire consequences of unwanted involvement. As I've said countless times, I'm not stupid. There just so happened to be something that intrigued me, piquing my interest far greatly than any riveting murder-mystery or psychotic thriller.

On another note, was that a threat, or a friendly warning? It was child's play to surrender to the notion of him expressing his concern through his typical roundabout manner, but I didn't want those thoughts populating my brain. These feelings...this maddening infatuation— it will only worsen and spread like a goddamn tumor. Was liking someone supposed to hurt this much? Was it not supposed to be a wondrous feeling, the kind that makes you walk on clouds? What about 'love?' If 'liking,' was this devastating, will 'love' be the death of me?

I idly twirled my tresses around my index finger. "Well, that was...different," I finally broke the silence. "I mean, in the good way. It's not like my previous dates, you know, the boring marriage meeting precursor kind."

"Apparently, the best dates happen when parents play Cupid."

"Yup. And there's no better ambiance than parental interference."

"I take it you dislike arranged marriage?"

"And you don't?"

"I relish the thought of spending my life bound to a random opportunist whom I have not the slightest bit of attraction for."

"Sarcasm and a heart of stone are not enough to keep a woman?"

"Apparently not."

The hollowness of his voice resonated in my ears. My heart shriveled and crumbled as I watched him look longingly at the single heavenly body illuminating the sky. He just seemed so...wounded. It was pure torture. The urge to take him into my arms resurfaced spasmodically like withheld regurgitation. But I couldn't. No. It will only make things more awkward than they already were.

Must he always be mournful whenever Hotaru Imai was involved? Just what had she done to him? Was the source of his suffering similar to mine? The numbing pain from having feelings for someone who is incapable of reciprocation?

I was heavily preoccupied by my innermost thoughts that I failed to realize his fingertips lightly tracing my cheek. "Why are you crying, Polka?"

Oh shit. Why was I crying? I was crying? I scrambled to save face, blinking the moisture away. "Don't be ridiculous. There's just something in my eye," I lied.

His eyes bore into my soul, commanding me to spill the beans. And then they softened uncharacteristically. He yanked my arm, causing me to stumble across the planks and land on his lap.

I jumped backward, no longer caring if I punched a hole in the hull or if we capsized. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"Wipe your face," he tossed me a handkerchief. "I wouldn't want to have my picture taken with something so ugly."

I begrudgingly dabbed the corners of my eyes with his silk pocket square. I returned to my spot by his side. He stretched his arm, positioning his huge smartphone to accommodate both of our faces. I flashed the camera my most winsome smile.

It was nothing special, really. A happy brunette in a white dress sharing wine with a sizzling dark-haired rebel, a picture which, to an outsider, would look like the bad-boy-meets-sweet-girl cliché that plagued popular and overrated teenage romantic comedies. That certainly wasn't us. I was overjoyed, though, for the shallowest of reasons: all because he smiled.

"Imagine that, you actually have full control over your facial muscles," I commented on the snapshot.

"Shut up, or you'll be swimming home."

"Ditch that whole constipated Edward Cullen look, seriously."

He rolled his eyes at me and pocketed his phone. "Speak for yourself. You'll be wrinklier than my grandmother before you even hit menopause."

"What?"

His next words sent me soaring through the heavens. "Smile, Polka. You're at your most beautiful when you do."

 **-x-**

Chapter VII done.

How'd you find the date? Too weird?

Please drop a review. :)

 **TinyLaments**


	8. The Wrong Raven

**Author's note:**

So it's been two weeks since my last update. I'm a horrible writer, I know.

Fieldwork finished earlier than expected. While I did miss the company of my laptop and cell reception, I must say I enjoyed the simple lifestyle in the mountainside. Plus, the locals were very hospitable. They're just so nice. Cuts and sunburn aside, I'm quite happy. Can't believe I'm saying this, since nature never loved me, but I actually miss the wilderness.

 **spica14:** Aww, thanks. I'm glad you like the chapter. Romance really isn't my thing, so...yeah.

 **Cookie Cake L0v3R:** *feigns ignorance* Mystery? What mystery? Btw, is 'asdfghjkl' a good thing, or a bad thing? :)

 **YellowOrangeRed:** It's funny how you keep telling me not to stop. (Un)Fortunately, I just love cliffhangers. :)

 **Ayame-hime 11d7:** Probably not, sorry. I'm aware that switching POV's adds some dimension (*cough* A Song of Ice and Fire *cough*), but I might not be able to pull it off as well as other writers. Also, throw in the fact that it is Natsume Hyuuga. Again, I'm sorry.

 **SunBabyBoss:** Interesting twists. :D I'll keep your suggestions (if that's what they are) in mind as I progress through the story.

 **blueabyss16:** Merci.I hope so, too. The writer's block thing, I mean.

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice. I suppose I need to make a few more disclaimers.

 _I Love It_ , _Clarity_ , _Love Never Felt So_ Good, _Don't Stop the Music_ ,and _On the Floor_ aren't mine.

* * *

 **VIII: The Wrong Raven**

 _His next words sent me soaring through the heavens. "Smile, Polka. You're at your most beautiful when you do."_

 **-x-**

"Do you need me to walk you to your door?"

I nodded meekly. Leaving me at the lobby was perfectly fine, but I could not find it in myself to refuse his kind offer. So here I stand, waiting to reach the topmost floor.

In addition to my inability to initiate a conversation, my discomfort was compounded by the dampness lapping at my legs. A miscalculation and a stupid overreaction to human skin led to my current predicament. I blame Hyuuga, too for being so damn distracting.

Natsume kept a blank face. If it were any other person, I'd be hearing the classic "I told you so." I fiddled with the hem of my skirt, which was still dripping with lake water, although it was partially blow-dried by Hyuuga's death-defying motorcycle driving. Aw crud! Permy will totally kill me for drenching her booties.

 _"Smile, Polka. You're at your most beautiful when you do."_

I slapped my cheeks with both hands, fighting the heat welling up my face. Why was I making a big deal out of this? It was a compliment that my dearest Permy would often supply, although forever sprinkled with blunt and rude remarks. Not to gloat, but men and women alike have expressed their sentiments of aesthetic pleasure toward my features.

Maybe it's because it's someone who matters, not that Permy doesn't. How could she not? She's my best friend in the whole wide world!

"Polka, we're here."

I blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Snap out of it, Mikan!

As we got off the elevator, I fumbled for my jacket pockets. "Here."

He looked at the pocket square briefly before returning his eyes to me. "I've no interest in your bodily fluids. Keep it."

And this was how our conversations would always begin: a taunt heavily coated in sarcasm and mockery, usually directed at my appearance, behavior, or attitude, none of which ever failing to make my blood boil. Such insults would then be met with a counterattack in the form of inquiries or comments regarding his personal life, or more specifically, the amethyst-eyed raven. Then, defense and denial on his part, followed by an apology from me. Cool, we were bickering like children, the typical cat-dog scenario preluding a wholesome, lasting companionship. How hackneyed.

"Since when did nitpicking rom-com clichés become my favorite pastime?"

"You always seemed the type to indulge in those cheesy love stories. Could you possibly be writing the first chapter of ours?"

Now that one hit home for me. The painful trueness of it all was a butcher's knife through my frontal lobe. "Don't go assuming things, bastard."

"Catchy title. I smell a bestseller."

"With me playing black widow, I can't see why not."

"It's a pity this tale will be punctuated with you leaving me for dead," he said, smiling slyly. "You do realize you just admitted desiring, or at least imagining having a romantic attachment with me."

I scrunched my face. I couldn't come up with a snarky comeback.

Just then, he leaned in, triggering severe tachycardia in me for the nth time. He lightly pressed his lips to my left cheek, and whispered in my ear. "Good night, Polka."

I was rooted to the carpeted floor, watching him disappear behind the elevator doors. Natsume Hyuuga was certainly hitting all the stops. The quintessential afterdate goodnight kiss—shouldn't he be the recipient? Who cares! He kissed me. _Natsume kissed me_. Now, if he had just scooted a little to his left...

I placed my fingers over the part touched by his lips, and brought them to my own. How stupid I must have looked. As if his kiss could be transmitted in such a manner. My zygomaticus major refused to obey me, stubbornly maintaining that foolish grin that I was itching to wipe off my face.

"Where'd you he take you for dinner, a drive-thru?"

Leaning on the doorframe was Permy in a burgundy see-through nightie, donning a smile not unlike Natsume's. Throw in a pair of angel wings and high heels, and you've got yourself a Victoria's Secret model fresh off the runway.

I stepped in and locked the door behind me. "You and your untamed imagination. It's just the first date, you know. We aren't even together."

She rolled unto her bed, raising her legs to the ceiling. "What a child. Where is it written that a relationship is a prerequisite for sex?"

"W-well...whatever! Do you take me for a cheap flesh peddler?" I stripped down to my panties, and threw on my nightshirt, tossing the wet shoes at her in annoyance.

She grumbled as she set the poor booties aside. "I take you for an inexperienced whore," she said, rolling her eyes while dodging the pillow I launched at her face. "Mikan Yukihira, the paragon of purity. I'm fairly certain you'll die a virgin."

"Big talk coming from another virgin Mary. Promiscuity isn't the mark of experience, you undefiled slut," I countered.

She threw my pillow back, which I deftly caught with my hands. "Perhaps. Perhaps not. Maybe I've already relinquished my maidenhood."

I leaped into her bed. "...You what? Th-that's too quick a development!"

"Pipe down. You'll wake all the floors below us," she hissed.

I pouted like a child who had just received a scolding. "I can't believe you'd give in so easily. Or rather, I can't believe you wouldn't tell me something that important."

"Will you please go back to whatever era you came from, and also, if it's not too much to ask, return my idiot best friend?"

"Pfft. Right. _Best friend_ ," I snorted.

She arched an eyebrow. "I'm great, am I not?"

"Oh, I'm sure secret-keeping is a proven method for preserving friendships."

"Amen to that."

"Permy, how could you?" I rested my back on the headboard, giving her an accusatory stare as I hugged my knees. Just unbelievable.

She laughed and lightly jabbed a finger at my nose. "If I had a penny for every instance you believed whatever cockamamie lie I spouted at your face, Japan will cease being an archipelago."

I feigned anger as I pulled on her perms. "You'd better not be lying to me."

"My hymen is still intact, I assure you. You can check if you want."

"Eww. No, thank you," I replied, curling my lips in distaste at her suggestion. "We may be close, but not _that_ close. Just...yuck. How did we even arrive at such a disgusting topic?"

"This isn't the 12th century, sweet girl. You're what, eighteen now? As will I, in a few hours," she said matter-of-factly. "Anyway, you've yet to fill me in on your date with Hyuuga."

I did as I was bid, not missing a single detail— the enchanted forest, his culinary skills, the boatride, and his spiel on women's general perception of male motives. "It was so unexpected, Permy," I squealed.

"He's good," she agreed. "Too bad he failed to turn the frog into a princess."

I turned crimson. "Do you have any idea how frustrating it is? It's worse than having Flotsam and Jetsam flipping the boat!"

She sneered. "Please tell me you didn't pucker your lips."

My eyes moved from her face, to the ceiling, and then to her silver bedspread. I twiddled my thumbs and unconsciously chewed on my lower lip.

"Way to look desperate."

I glared at her for that comment. "Well, I'm sorry for expecting things."

"There, there," she patted my back consolingly. "I still can't believe he never had a girlfriend."

"Neither can I."

"And to think we suspected Imai was his ex or something."

"Tell me about it. Speaking of, she's like the She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to his Harry Potter. He preferred not to discuss anything about her, and his reasons remain unclear." I thumbed my chin in thought. An unresolved dispute? A broken promise? A past connection that transcended friendship? I was strongly convinced that something existed between those two. I could feel it in my bones. If not his girlfriend, what could she have been?

"Maybe she was the first girl to ever spurn him," Permy suggested. "She seems like the type to reject a suitor within the first ten seconds of meeting him."

"Could be. But that's a bit shallow a reason for this kind of behavior, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "From what I know about Hyuuga, rejection would probably shatter his gargantuan ego."

I frowned. "You make him sound so petty."

"What's this," she said, giving me a knowing smile. "Are you defending the honor of the man you once claimed to loathe with every fiber of your being? Boy, do times change."

I managed to land the pillow on her immodest bosom. "I don't see any good in siding with my sworn enemy."

"You're a terrible liar."

"That jerkface can hire his own lawyer to fight his battles for him."

She stretched her limbs and yawned. "All right, Princess Tiana, let's get some shuteye. This lady doesn't want ugly eyebags on her birthday."

I yielded, feeling drowsiness overcome me. I crawled into my own bed, and pulled the covers over my head.

"Have fun swapping saliva with Prince Charming in your dreams," she teased.

"Gross. How did I end up having a nymphomaniac for a best friend?"

"And why is mine being such a nun?"

"Ugh. Whatever. Night, Permy."

"Good night, Mikan."

* * *

"To my girl, Sumire, happy eighteenth." If I remembered correctly, the pretty disc jockey was one of Permy's upperclassmen. Her name was at the tip of my tongue, but articulating it was proving to be difficult. Carmine pink...aha! Misaki. Misaki Harada.

I immediately pegged her as a strong, independent woman whose attitude toward genders bordered on feminism. Witty and outspoken, this Architecture student was often misinterpreted by others as mean and intimidating. What can I say? Birds of the same feather flock together.

"Let's get this party started, bitches!"

This was the first party Sumire Shouda ever held outside the Shouda mansion, as well as the first to include hard liquor in it. Barely an hour in, a number of partygoers have succumbed to the alcohol and other substances, losing themselves in the music and the psychedelic, seizure-inducing lights. The dance floor was packed with people hopping and bopping and rocking to Icona Pop's _I Love It_. The birthday girl and I left for the bar, as exhaustion had taken its toll on us when the song hit second verse.

"What can I get you, ladies?" greeted the bartender.

I proceeded to ordering a strawberry daiquiri for myself, and a Cosmo for Permy, while she busied herself with her stilettos. Her feet must have been aching from our energetic dancing earlier. Mine did, too.

"Misaki-senpai sure knows how to wear people out," I said breathlessly as I straightened my creased skirt.

Permy idly sipped her cocktail, still in the process of regaining her breath. "She's playing the right tracks," she muttered.

"Looking for someone?" I queried. She may have been physically present, but I discerned from the frantic motion of her eyeballs that her mind was elsewhere.

"Pertinent matters," she mumbled sourly. She was sulking, alright. I understood her grouchy disposition. Earlier this morning, Permy received information that her boyfriend will be unable to attend her birthday party due to 'pertinent matters' demanding his immediate attention. Oh, did I forget to mention? Twenty-four hours after completing the social activity proposed by Narumi, Permy finally renounced her 'single' status. Yes, folks, Luca Nogi was off the market. This news left his numerous admirers distraught.

I breathed out a sigh. "If it makes you feel any better, I've got a present for you waiting back in our apartment."

She managed a small smile. "If you'd gone shopping in one of those 'novelty items' stores, don't bother."

"It's not a gag gift, promise. It's the real deal."

"Good."

Permy and I sang along to Foxes while consuming our second round of cocktails. Zedd's harmonics and infectious beats faded, along with the colorful strobe lights. A spotlight was shone on the crowd, which dispersed like ants as a disco-sounding track blared through the speakers, leaving a solitary figure standing in the middle of the dance floor. Only when the bassline kicked in did the shadow show any signs of life.

Fedora, studded fingerless gloves, sequined jacket, and sleek, form-fitting pants? That emphatic crotch grab said it all—Michael Jackson.

The alcohol-addled onlookers snapped their fingers and clapped in sync to the drums, demonstrating their support for the MJ impersonator. He had my praise. Not only was he proficiently mimicking the dance moves popularized by the King of Pop, but also incorporating unique steps of his own.

"Who the devil?"

Permy, who was taken aback by the sudden appearance, denied having any knowledge about the man with a shake of her head. A bona fide Michael Jackson fan, she watched the dancer's every move like a hawk. She was undoubtedly captivated by his grace and skill.

Still obscured by the penumbra of his fedora, the man began moonwalking in the direction of the bar. "Baby," he started singing, "every time I love you, it's in and out my life, in out baby."

The riotous mob, which was now dancing to the relatively slow tempo beat, added their voices to his. "Tell me, if you really love me. It's in and out my life, driving me crazy. Cause baby, love never felt so good."

Even with the brightness of the beam of light illuminating his features and the considerably negligible distance between us, I was having trouble uncovering his identity. That was until I caught a familiar pair of steel eyes glinting from beneath the shadows. Well, well, well. What do we have here? I leisurely sipped my drink, smiling in satisfaction at Permy's reaction as the man unveiled his face.

"Luca?" Permy asked, dumbfounded. Her Cosmo had already departed from her hands, creating a blood-colored puddle on the floor. She then studied the blonde with narrowed eyes. "I thought you couldn't make it?"

Grinning sheepishly, he mussed up his golden locks. "I wanted to surprise you. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

"I'll sleep on it," she replied. She turned her attention to the mandarin wedge decorating her newly made cocktail. Luca's puppy-dog eyes failed to elicit any compassion from Permy. Knowing her, she'd probably let him sweat it out. Pitiful guy.

I poked her cheek. "Oi, don't you think you're being too harsh on him?"

A strong hand was suddenly wound about my wrist. I reflexively sprang backward and adopted a defensive stance, preparing to wreck havoc with a stinging mist of pepper spray. The sight of spiky, disarrayed coal tresses made me halt my actions. Disarrayed is a bit too much. It was just Natsume's hot 'I-just-had-sex' hairstyle.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your annoying presence?" I snapped at him. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes? Dressed rather modestly, with an attire consisting of a red casual suit jacket, a plain black inner shirt, and dark grey denim, he dazzled me more than those flashy partygoers in their glittering garb. Natsume Hyuuga looked absolutely stunning in red.

He drew his upper body into a mock bow. "You have Your Royal Clumsiness to thank for that."

"Oh, shut it. I was just distracted by something," I said lamely. I concentrated on my drink, disguising the cold hard fact that I was beyond mesmerized by his blood irises, which were beautifully complimented by his colored clothing. My mind reeled back to our first encounter. This _ravishing_ bastard ought to get down on his knees and beg, to the entire world, for forgiveness.

"...if you haven't forgotten my present," I heard Permy say. She winked and flashed me a wicked smile. Such a selfish, spoiled brat, Permy.

Luca smiled and opened his gloved palm, revealing a golden chain with a teardrop-shaped emerald pendant. Great choice, Luca! Aside from fashionable clothing, my dear Permy _loved_ her jewelry.

She gleefully thanked him, and threw her arms around his neck. "You're forgiven."

Apart from my obvious attraction, there was one other reason why I enjoyed Natsume's company. The advent of my third wheeling days was dawning on me, and I was more than thankful to have him with me, enduring the mushiness and the ant-luring sweetness of the couple. Of course, I couldn't refrain from envying Permy. Double dates and a double wedding came to mind. If only...

Natsume was still observing the two, carelessly displaying that melancholic look he wore back in Day One. The one he had when he mentioned dark chocolates. Was he thinking about her? Again?

"Great party, Permy!" Koko beamed, approaching the bar with Kitsuneme and two other males in tow.

"Can we buy you ladies drinks?" asked one of Koko's pals. Similar to Misaki-senpai, the color of his irises were identical to that of his hair, a shade of blue so dark, it could be mistaken for black. If I had to make a wild guess, I'd say his memorable feature was the star tattoo under his left eye.

Permy swatted his hand away. "Honestly, Tsubasa-senpai. Do you enjoy the taste of Misaki-senpai's fists that much? FYI, the drinks are free, dumbo. You needn't pay a single cent."

"Whipped," Kitsuneme sneered as he slapped his knee. The rest of the men broke into a chorus of laughter.

"That is not true," Tsubasa fumed, sliding into a seat beside Permy. "A Rusty Nail, please. Thank you," he told the bartender.

An attractive man with black hair that hung until his waist claimed the stool next to mine. "Hiding away such beauty in the darkness is a waste," he said. "Shouldn't you be out there dancing, Mikan-chan?"

I lifted a brow at my flirtatious upperclassman. "Might I ask you the same question, Tono-senpai? Won't the ladies mourn your absence, temporary as it is?"

"You flatter me, dear kouhai," he returned with a wink.

"Stay away from Tono if you don't want to become a teenage mom," Tsubasa interjected.

"I resent that remark," Tono admonished. "Badmouthing me in front of my juniors. You're only bitter because I'm free to explore the world's female fauna, while you're caged in Misaki's evil clutches."

Tsubasa spilled his drink. "I'm not her prisoner. She's my girlfriend, okay? G-I-R-L-F-R-I-E-N-D."

"You're whipped. You're trapped. I fail to see the difference."

The blue-haired man apologized to the bartender for the soiled counter top, no longer bothering to rise to his friend's taunts.

Tono downed his bourbon. "So, we're heading back. D'you ladies wanna come with?"

"My feet are in dire need of a massage," Permy declined with a genial smile. "Mikan?"

"Nah, I'm fine with chilling at the bar," I replied.

Koko, Tsubasa, Kitsuneme, and Tono rejoined the sea of sweating people, leaving me with my first task as an official third wheel: striking a civil conversation with my best friend's boyfriend's best friend. Natsume was stuck in his own quiet world, paying no attention to the couple, nor to the cacophony and the chaos that ensued as some guests began tearing off their thongs. Lovely. Just lovely.

"Ja, Luca," he said as he stepped away from the bar.

I awkwardly glanced at the two, and excused myself. My pursuit for Natsume led me to the pool table area, where I found him smoking a cigarette.

"Stalker much?" He held out the white and blue pack of Parliament cigarettes. He abruptly snuffed the lighted stick as I refused and told him that I don't smoke.

"So, what are you up to?" I asked.

"What do you think?" He exhaled, grabbing a cue stick and advancing towards one of the tables. I noticed the presence of the 'wretched woman' who was plaguing his mind. Why was _she_ here? Did Permy invite her without telling me?

"Eight-ball. I call tails," he told her.

"How desperate you must be for humiliation," rang out Hotaru's monotone.

"Just flip the coin."

The coin toss left Natsume with the break shot. He broke the rack successfully, pocketing four solid color balls in the process. He sank another one of the solids, before committing a foul involving the striped number 13. "Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Hotaru made good work of the billiard balls, clearing three of the striped ones in an ascending order. Her next stroke pocketed numbers 12 and 14.

"You horribly underestimate my abilities," she said, finishing off the last of the balls assigned to her. A series of collisions later, and the black eight ball was pocketed.

A silver-haired teenager who seemed about my age suddenly appeared beside her. Without any other garment beneath his varsity jacket, the man's lean torso was displayed for all the world to see. When one has such shapely abs, why shelf them behind restricting pieces of cloth otherwise known as shirts? His voice was almost as cold as his teal eyes. "Having fun?"

"Hardly," she drawled. Her purple eyes landed on Natsume. "You've gotten rusty, Hyuuga."

Before Natsume could even utter word, Silver grabbed Hotaru's hand and led her to the dance floor.

"Tch." Natsume took a swig of the Granitbock Ice that rested on the edge of the table. Wasn't Hotaru drinking that earlier? Damn. All of this was making me uncomfortable. How come _she_ gets an indirect kiss from him?

I ripped the bottle from his hand, and emptied it, staggering backwards as I did so. So much for avoiding intoxication.

He shook his head in disapproval. "Drowning your sorrows? I personally prefer vodka for that purpose."

I groaned, mentally repeating a mantra of sobriety. Get a hold of yourself! Remember what happened the last time you ingested something beyond 5% ABV? How you wept on Permy's shoulder, declaring the possibility of falling in love with Natsume Hyuuga? I didn't want to be in that pathetic form, EVER. Not here, not now. Certainly not in front of him.

I childishly stuck my tongue out. "You just got pwned by a girl. Such a dishonor."

"That woman is a true born hustler. Not much of a chance there."

"Oh oh, are we talking tavern-based competitions, or are you referring to her in general? Either way, you're right. Judging by that adorable stud muffin...yup, no chance at all."

"I could care less about her boyfriends."

I caught his earlobe between my fingers, and lowered his head to mine. Oh, good lord. What the hell was I doing? "Let's dance, Natsume," I purred.

"That does it." He snaked an arm around my shoulder, casting me a worried look. "I'm taking you to Shouda."

"No no no no no," I yammered.

"You need to sit down. And maybe sober up a little," he insisted flatly.

"Quit being a stick in the mud."

"You're drunk, Polka."

I defiantly dragged him by the collar of his shirt; he made no effort to escape my grasp. He merely assisted my groggy movement by keeping a firm hand on my hip. His eyes trailed to Silver and Hotaru, who were breaking out steamy, well-coordinated hip hop routines to the last _Mama-say, mama-sa, ma-ma-ko-ssa_ 's of Rihanna's dance-pop hit.

"My tutorials don't come cheap, mind you," he said amidst executing a sensual bodywave. The muscles of his chest flexed deliciously, their movement apparent through his sleeveless undershirt, enticing me to shred the fabric to bits. Really, stripping him _did_ cross my mind.

I started slowly grinding my hips in sync to the Latin-infused, techno intro of _On the Floor_ by JLo. "I can dance perfectly fine on my own, thank you very much. I don't have two left feet."

"Of course," he answered with his usual dose of sarcasm.

My arms encircled his neck, drawing our bodies closer to each other. I blew a raspberry at his face.

He murmured something unintelligible into the crook of my neck. I didn't catch any of it, but the deep, seductive vibrations of his vocal cords sent a pleasurable tingle down my spine. I felt my privates burn. Perspiration trickled down the valley of my breasts. From expending too much energy, from the hellish temperature due to crowding, from drunkenness, from sexual arousal— I couldn't tell. I suspected the last two. Hm, perhaps it was a deadly combination of everything.

With the death of all inhibition came the emergence of a raw sensuality that I never expected to have hidden inside myself. Blame the booze. Or was I just unleashing my inner nympho? Wait, didn't that accolade already have Permy's name written all over it? I grimaced inwardly. Screw it all.

Probably around the rap portion of the track, I'd forgotten who I was. Well, shit. I continued waving my hands in the air and shaking my hips. Through the momentary spurts of clear vision provided by the ever-blinking lights, I caught Natsume gliding his hands up and down the curves of a woman with a bared midriff. It took me a while to assemble that jigsaw puzzle of a picture.

What in the world? That bitch! I angrily sashayed to where they were, closing my ears to the recycled pickup lines being fired at me by random strangers. More likely than not, my sober self would ridicule my reaction.

"You hopeless lowlife," I snarled. I seized him by the scruff of his neck, harshly spinning him around to face me. Great. I was _not_ his girlfriend, but I sure as hell was acting like it. And a possessive, psychotic one at that.

Dismissing all hesitation, I closed my eyes and locked lips with him. Whatever. I'll just mourn my first kiss, and possibly, my virginity when the sun rises. Oh, and don't forget the hangover.

I gripped his smooth backside with one hand, and raked his silky hair with the other. I committed to memory every detail of his soft lips before cruelly prying them apart. No, I wasn't allowing him a moment's respite. Opportunities like this were no different from Halley's Comet. Carpe diem, no?

Inch by inch, I conquered the interior of his mouth. Sweet cupcakes, he tasted good! My senses were enshrouded by the luscious spice of vanilla and cinnamon. I predicted him to be within the clove or saffron department. I can't say I'm disappointed, though.

The one-sided onslaught turned into an equally-matched skirmish of tongues as he retaliated against me. Half a minute later, he severed the connection with a single shove of his arm. My mouth left his, but not without a parting nibble. A token of my esteem, if you will. I happily licked the blood off my lips. His blood.

"Polka," Natsume demanded. Was he appalled by my actions? But he kissed me back so passionately...that should count for something, right?

I opened my eyes, only to be stunned into silence. Holy horse shit. Instead of a bursting scarlet sun, I was looking into an eerie purple.

You've guessed it. I had bestowed my first kiss upon Hotaru Imai.

 **-x-**

Chapter VIII, done.

Again, I apologize for the holdup. Might as well do the same for any future delays. Academic papers will be eating up my precious time, and I won't be free until the last day of July. In spite of this, I will soldier on. Tsk tsk. Priorities. What does that word even mean? :D

Comments? Violent reactions? Fingers crossed the die-hard NatsuMikan fans out there won't butcher me. :D

You must be wondering where this story is going. I am, too. Oh well. I'll just leave that to my sporadic imagination.

I hope this chapter can compensate for my long absence.

Please review. :)

 **TinyLaments**


	9. Wake Up To Wake

**Author's note:**

As always, I apologize for the wait. Wow. I never quite expected people to find certain scenes hilarious. Well, no butchering or burning occurred, thank god. The issue of time aside, I've encountered trouble along the way, particularly how to end the chapter. A friend told me that the 'deep, dark secrets' are usually revealed during drinking sessions, which I failed to do in _The Wrong Raven_. In vino nobis veritas, right?

Well, too late to dwell on that now. I've no other choice but to forge through.

 **xakur3x:** Thank you for saying so. As for reactions, I don't think there will be much of those in this chapter.

 **SunBabyBoss:** Are you referring to the title of the chapter, or of the story? If it's the former, well, you've already seen it.

 **AnimeMango:** Was it now? I suppose that's a good thing. Thank you very much.

 **YellowOrangeRed:** Natsume's deal, huh? Am I taking too long? Please bear with me.

 **Aschubel:** So I've been spared. Thanks. :D

 **spica14:** It was written on a whim, so I can't give much of an explanation. Forgive me. I'm trying to come up with something sensible, though. Yes, definitely Youichi.

 **Cookie Cake L0v3R:** Why would I…what? You don't like the scene? :)

I am not Higuchi Tachibana; I do not own Gakuen Alice.

* * *

 **IX: Wake Up To Wake**

 _You've guessed it. I had bestowed my first kiss upon Hotaru Imai._

 **-x-**

The morning came, and it was…fantastic.

Everything seemed to be in a blender, spinning and whirring and fragmented. Consider my insides pureed. I painstakingly rose from where I was lying and walked over to the window to shut the drapes. Why must the sun be such a bitch?

I pressed a hand to my abdomen. Fuck. Consequences needed to be faced. The price at the bottom of every vodka bottle…Or was it whiskey? Whichever it was, it was far beyond the control of my digestive system. I let it all out. An oatmeal-colored colloidal suspension, then a reddish orange muck.

"Perfect time for a tutti frutti slushy, don't you think?"

I licked my cracked lips, which were now slippery from all the liquids that I've just unleashed on the surroundings. Groaning, I massaged my temples with my thumbs. "There's more where that came from."

Permy clucked her tongue. "Now that kind of business you can resume in the lavatory. Follow me, frog princess." She stabilized me with her arms and guided me to the bathroom.

I hunched over the toilet, retching and retching until the yellow goop finally showed. It was acrid…simply unpleasant. Never again. Never again am I going to act like an alcohol-depraved lunatic.

I cringed at the odors permeating the room like a thick, nauseating fog. Against my shivering, I hopped into the bathtub which was being filled with cold water. I rolled my head back, trying to organize my scrambled memories.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Permy asked.

I grumbled while clutching my head. "Care to enlighten me on what went down last night?"

"So you've no recollection of your Lucy moment?"

I instantly emerged from the tub. "My what?!"

"Later. First, bathe. You smell and look like shit." She hung a towel on the towel bar before leaving me to my ablution.

Wrinkly skin becomes me. I've been marinated in lavender-scented suds for almost half an hour. I rinsed off any residual cleaning product, and dabbed myself dry. That bath was certainly refreshing.

I couldn't be any more grateful to the brilliant mind that inspired shades. As it was, it seemed like even the tiniest, dimmest rays of sunlight can penetrate through my flesh and reduce me to ashes. It was not just my eyes that were disintegrating. A squeaking mouse was as loud as the gods angrily banging on their drums. I've never been this sensitive, irritable, and just pissed at every being in existence. So this is what a hangover feels like.

I tilted my head to look at my best friend. How come she wasn't suffering as much I was? We consumed pretty much the same volume of alcohol, didn't we?

"You seem better," she said.

Rolling my eyes came naturally. "I no longer smell or look like it, but I feel like shit."

"We don't share the same alcohol tolerance, dear. You imbibed too much. So much more than you can handle."

I folded my arms and stared out the window. Remembrance eluded me. I do know that I did something for the first time...and that I liked it. But what?

"So you've figured it out?"

"I...I think I...kissed someone," I mumbled.

She smirked at me. "Now, onto the million dollar question. Who was Mikan Yukihira's first kiss?"

I shut my eyes. The place was dimly-lit, dark with dancing neon fireflies. JLo boomed in the background. Think back. Think hard. I started remembering cold skin against my own. Hands touching, bodies swaying, hot breath on my neck. Hair like ink splattered all over my fingers.

"Natsu—no." I swallowed in horror. "Red and violet are at the opposite ends of the spectrum."

"Which means?"

"NO. No, I did not just waste my first kiss on my rival. That can't be—!"

"You were mad with jealousy. Can't exactly blame you, though. Those two ravens were dancing together, and it was _hot_."

I nodded slowly. "And I so happened to grab the wrong one—hold on, why didn't you stop me? What the hell were you doing?"

"I was at the bar, in case you've forgotten. Dozens of feet away," she shrugged. "Besides, it would be a shame to ruin something so priceless."

My grumbling and cursing never abated. I slid onto the floor, burying my head between my knees. "I wanna crawl into a hole and die."

"Geez. It was only a kiss." She waved off my lamentation as though it were a pesky bug. Your concern is very much appreciated, Permy.

"It's not just any kiss—it was my first! Don't you understand?"

"What I don't understand is why you're being overly dramatic. You seemed to enjoy it _very much_."

"Well, _duh._ It felt goo—I'm digressing. The point is..."

She continued mocking my discomfort. "I think I have a copy of Katy Perry's _I Kissed A Girl_ somewhere. Rob, kindly check the glove compartment for me."

"Permy—!"

"Pardon the intrusion, mistresses, but we have arrived at our destination," said the chauffeur.

I followed Permy out of the car, still mortified by the information I've obtained from our earlier discussion. How the hell was I supposed to face Natsume now? Should I drop Imai's subject altogether? I don't think I'll be able to endure staying in the same room as her, not after what I've done.

"Come to think of it, this is also your fault," I accused.

"Just how am I to blame for your idiocy?"

" _You invited her._ If you hadn't, I wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"Hm, probably," she sighed. "Bulk of it is yours, still. Anyway, playing the blame game now won't accomplish anything."

I had to agree. No point in crying over spilled milk. We reached the fork and split paths as we always did.

"Just act naturally, Mikan," she called out.

If only it were that simple. I stopped in my tracks when I realized that I was heading toward the wrong building. Damn. No, wait, that's splendid! It was Monday, which meant I would not have to stand in _her_ intimidating presence. This, however, does not spare me from encountering the red-eyed menace. And there was also that mission involving crawling into the lion's den. I made a mental note to drop by Professor Serio's office later.

I survived first period without humiliating myself. The temptation to doze off behind my sunglasses nagged at me incessantly during the earlier parts of the class, but Natsume Hyuuga was caffeine to me.

As soon as dismissal came, I made a run for the exit. I was bumping into people and rudely making their belongings fall from their hands. People started hollering at the barreling brunette in Burberry. Ugh, whatever. I can worry about all that later.

"Polka."

Shit. No. Please don't be the man I've been dreading to see. Alas, fate was relentless, punishing me with this inevitable meeting. My startled reaction did me no better. "I knew something was off today. A certain pervert forgot to pester me."

"Ever so cryptic. I can't keep reading your cues all the time. I'm not Xavier."

My face turned incredulous. "HUH?! If anything, you're the one who requires all this deciphering, you stupid Rosetta Stone."

"If I wanted something sent across, I'd be stating it outright," he retorted.

"Right, because subtle hints like initiating an 'accidental' kiss are very direct. Imai _clearly_ understands your intentions."

"This again. Can we consider last night's bout a validation of your homosexuality?"

"N-no! How dare you suggest such a thing?"

He quirked a brow at me. "Enlighten me, what other reasons could possibly compel you to commit such an act?"

"I...I was drunk," I answered stupidly.

"That's not an answer."

"I was un—"

"You were in full possession of your faculties. Why don't we just cut to the chase, Polka?"

Flustered by his gradual advance, I stepped away from him until my back was pressed against the wall. I was cornered. Terrific.

"W-what exactly are you implying?"

"And you expect to win an Oscar with that mediocre performance?"

I was not in the mood for this. With the pounding in my head and the persistent caterwauling invading my ears, my tolerance for his scathing repartee had gone past the Marianas Trench. "Just tell me, damn it!"

He smirked knowingly and plunged his head towards mine, an inch or so shy of grazing my lips. His breath was upon my face, warm, even, and fragrant. Hyperventilation was a mere step away. "You mistook her for me, didn't you?"

"Wha-wha—" Between the heat on my cheeks and that pervading my genitals, I was surprised I haven't evaporated yet. Good lord, all I had to do was push my head forward! But I was frozen, pinned to the wall, and at a loss for words.

"Three simple words, Polka. Just say them, and I'll put you out of your misery," he whispered hotly.

"...I—I don't f-follow."

He sighed. "Prove to me that you're not an idiot."

I swallowed thickly as I allowed my fingers to thread through his hair. His eyes resumed their usual activity: converting me into a spaghetti strainer. He must be thinking that I was easy prey. Ex _cuse_ me. I refused to accept that. Curse these basal urges! I'll prove you wrong, Natsume Hyuuga. I am not at your mercy.

"Three words," he repeated. "Kiss. Me. Natsume."

I suddenly pulled his head backwards, making his eyebrows hike up his forehead. I made an 'x' with my arms, "Wrong answer, but thank you for playing."

He snorted. "Your loss."

Our little standoff cost us a significant fraction of Philosophy class, which earned us both detention. Tardiness afforded no leniency from Professor Yamada. Such stringency. To say that she had a high regard for punctuality would be offensive to those who are not as keen on time as Death. Could she have been a Jewish tax collector in her past life?

Lunchtime offered me no escape from the grasp of Hyuuga's talons. Normally, I'd be sitting with Permy and Luca. I suppose a drop of gratitude was in order, though, given the drastic change in the level of awkwardness that came with their romantic atmosphere. That aside, he could have just asked me to share his table instead of catching me and my flying tray after tripping me with his leg!

"Is this a follow-up to this morning's interrogation?" I spat irritatedly. "You're making my food taste bad."

"How saddening. This is the thanks I get for saving you from humiliation?"

My spoon was starting to bend from the tightness of my grip. "Saving me? _Saving_ me?! You're the reason why I fell in the first place, you first class dickhead!"

He gave me a bored look while devouring futomaki. Eating in such a seductive manner...this kind of thing should be outlawed! I mean, really, why must every bite, every nibble, every instance of his tongue gliding across his lips be in slow motion? Why did these irrelevant details linger in my mind? I could feel my tongue drowning in saliva, which I feared was about to form a fountain at corners of my mouth. Was this another drawback of ingesting copious amounts of fermented potatoes?

He pursed his lips and drew them into his characteristic smirk, which I could not but interpret as ill omen. He then lifted his chopsticks to me, shoving a fat roll into my mouth. "You're drooling. If you're that hungry, then eat."

I blushed as I chewed and swallowed. Goddamnit, I _was_ drooling! Embarrassingly so.

"It'll only get worse if you don't put anything in your stomach," he continued. "You've seen it, haven't you? The bile."

I stared at the single item occupying my tray. Due to my immense lack of appetite, I had deviated markedly from my usual sweet streak, and resorted to plain filtered coffee. "Could we _please_ not talk about _that_? I've no appetite as it is."

"You need to ingest something solid," he insisted.

"I already have."

"My my, aren't we competitive?" The newly formed couple, Lumire, had made an appearance.

Permy disapproved of the amalgamation of their names, claiming it to be childish and outdated. 'That's for pathetic, lovestruck highschoolers,' she stated. Luca had a different opinion. He pointed out that it was only a letter short of the French word for light, 'lumière.' With that said, he called it beautiful.

"You two seem to be having fun," Luca said smilingly.

"Hn."

"Still intoxicated, Permy? Although, you blabber nonsense on principle, alcohol or no alcohol."

"You two in an isolated table, interacting civilly, and Hyuuga feeding you sushi...could this be kind of a start towards love?" Damn you, Permy! And you, too, Luca, for supporting your fiendish girlfriend's evil schemes!

"Polka is fasting," Natsume butted in. "She finally noticed how much of a pig she's being."

If this were an anime, my forehead would be popping with red cruciform veins. "Like I said, I'm not in the mood for food."

"Sumi-chan tells me you haven't eaten breakfast, either. Mikan-chan, here, have a sandwich," Luca offered.

I smiled as I shook my head. "It'll be a waste. I might just end up disgorging it."

"Death by croque-monsieur has a nice ring to it."

I put down my caffeinated beverage. "Food asphyxiation, really, Natsume? Pretty pathetic for a serial killer."

"For crying out loud," Permy remonstrated as she forced the sandwich between my lips. With these consecutive bouts of force-feeding, I was starting to feel like one of those destitute street children rampant in Third World countries. I begrudgingly consumed the whole thing.

Luca elbowed his best friend. "Tsubasa's later. You coming?"

"I've got detention."

"Oh, let me guess, Yamada?"

"The one and only."

The blonde sighed. "She and Jinno-sensei must be competing for AU's most uptight."

"You can add our childhood friend to the roster."

"Really? I think she's pretty chill," I said, earning myself a lifted eyebrow from Natsume.

"She doesn't seem the slightest bit strict," Permy chimed in, "not that I've been to one of her classes."

"I hear you're friends now, Permy. Well, friendly enough to invite each other to their birthdays."

"Don't you ever tire of being jealous?" she laughed. "Relax. She won't ever replace you."

"Haven't you learned a thing over these past two months?" Natsume drawled.

I drained my coffee cup. "And I bet your lines of argument include her response to your sexual harassment, which was a proper reaction, by the way."

"You're letting appearances deceive you." He stood up and rested his chopsticks on his plate.

Conversations turned stale ever since Natsume's walkout scene at the lunch table. Geographically, he was within an arm's reach, but somehow, he felt millions of light years away. Luca's words rang in my ears. Correction, Shakespeare's. _'Let us not burden our remembrance with a heaviness that's gone.'_

I glanced at my seatmate, who was reading manga hidden behind a thick textbook. Typical slacker Natsume.

"Class dismissed," the professor announced.

The warden arrived shortly, and escorted us to our prison cell. I've always thought there was no such thing as 'detention' in Japan. How wrong I was. Maybe this school was far too Westernized for its own good.

"You know the drill. No eating, no reading, no talking, and definitely no horseplay. You will surrender your gadgets, drugs, or any gambling paraphernalia. All confiscated items will be returned when the punishment ends. Are we clear?"

I sighed in defeat and handed over my mobile phone. Natsume reluctantly yielded his own, along with his wireless headphones, a PSP, and his copy of the seventh volume of Noblesse. The teacher then took his leave.

I reclined on the chair. There was only the two of us in this empty room, a perfect opportunity for me to spill the contents of his heart. I sighed again, remembering what Luca shared with me and Permy. A paper plane found its way onto my desk, interrupting my mulling.

'What did he tell you this time,' the note read.

'Oh, nothing. You're surprisingly clingy,' I wrote.

'Bollocks.'

'You hate her because she left you without even saying goodbye.'

'Do I really need a reason to hate her.'

'You didn't really think it would last forever, did you? You knew. She was bound to leave, sooner or later.'

'Forever is a lie.'

'Come on, Natsume. It's so glaringly obvious. You miss her.'

I started penning a postscript for my reply when I heard him crumple the paper. The second I opened my eyes, he was standing right in front of me.

"Polka, for what purpose do you think I arranged this meeting?"

I blinked as I struggled to recuperate from the frostbite caused by his chilling tone. I watched him rotate the chair situated beside mine. I was filled with disbelief. What did he just say? "You deliberately landed us both detention?" I asked.

"Idiot."

"Why? Why'd you do it?"

"Are you really that thickheaded?"

Lately, consecutive revelations have been rendering me speechless. There is no doubt that this was one of them. Astonishment turned into bliss, which changed into doubt. I was left with consternation. "What sick prank are you trying to pull here?"

"I grow weary of these stupid games," he replied.

I said nothing, and gave him my best attempt at an intimidating stare. Fail.

"You don't trust me."

"Color me shocked, Natsume. Throughout the entire time I've known you, you've been pining for your childhood friend-slash-ex lover-slash-god knows whatever your relationship was. Of course I trust you. I was born just yesterday."

"I haven't been _pining_ ," he said through gritted teeth.

I rolled my eyes at him. I sensed I've been doing that a lot lately. "Call it whatever you will. I won't fall for your trickery."

"Polka—"

"Through a series of strange events, I'd given my first kiss to a girl. I'm still plenty happy, though."

Even though paralysis was creeping as trepidation entrapped my body, I could not command myself to stop. But the aforementioned unpleasant sensation was accompanied by a strange thrill, a rush, an inexplicable desire to continue rousing the beast. I knew I had to pull the reins on my loud mouth, but the words poured out, much like the contents of my stomach this morning.

"I bet you're jealous. She's an excellent kisser, you know," I taunted.

"You're still drunk, I see." He sounded detached and unaffected, but the tenseness of his strong jaw gave him away. I was getting to him.

"Oh, I'm perfectly sober," I replied. "Of course you'd know. That's probably one of the things you like about her."

"Stop it."

"Be honest for once. For me, at least."

"I said stop it."

"You long for the taste of her lips. You miss her. You want her back."

"Shut up," he snarled.

"We can squabble over terminologies as we please," I continued blithely. "The fact of the matter is...ex-girlfriend or whatever, you're still hung up on Hotaru Imai."

He narrowed his eyes. "I dare you to say that again."

"Gladly. You're still hung up on Hotaru Imai."

"Say her name once more and—"

Fear, in all its essence, was undoubtedly erased from my vocabulary. I must've lost my marbles, because I no longer cared about the consequences. I smiled a sickeningly sweet smile before opening my mouth. "Ho-ta-ru."

His lips were suddenly upon my own, gently caressing their flesh. So warm, so tender, that I found myself melting. He kept it chaste, not probing any further with his tongue, but merely testing if I'd allow him an opening. Oddly enough, my cheeks were moistening from unbidden tears. I tasted the brine on my tongue. Perhaps this was what people termed 'tears of joy.'

"Stubborn little runt," he murmured as he pulled away. His fingers slowly traced the wet paths originating from my eyes. I trembled slightly as he did so.

"I don't...I don't want to be your rebound, Natsume."

"A mere rebound is not worth all this trouble."

"Natsu—"

He hushed me by pressing his index finger over my lips. "Mikan, listen. You have your misgivings regarding a person from my past. I completely understand that. Just...allow me to make one thing clear. Whatever it was that Imai and I had before, it's all far behind me."

"I—I...am grateful."

"For the sake of your boundless curiosity, I will tell you everything you'd want to know about me. As my girlfriend, you are entitled to that much."

I stared at him with wide eyes. "G-g-girlf-girlfriend? Preposterously presumptuous as always, I suppose."

"So you refuse?"

"Well," I hesitated. "You've made a...convincing offer."

He smirked. "Go ahead and say it, Polka."

While his reversion to calling me by that uncreative nickname posed a certain degree of irritation, I've come to acknowledge it as some form of endearment. I wiped off the remnants of my tears. "Yes, Natsume. I'll be your girlfriend."

He kissed me once more, only this time, penetrating through my lips. I caught a hint of menthol as our tongues danced and intertwined. I made it a point to keep my eyes open. The perfect shade of red...just as I've always wanted.

"I don't mean to interrupt your amorous activity, but I'm here to inform you that you're free to go." I'd recognize that impassive voice anywhere.

I reddened all over as I looked upon the swollen portion of her lower lip. "Th-thanks, Imai. O-oh, and la-last night—"

"Was a minor aberration," she finished my sentence.

"Ah. Uh, yes. I'm really sorry."

Acknowledging me with a subtle nod, she started returning our belongings. "Yukihira-san, I advise you call your mother soon. It's urgent."

In total, my phone received twenty calls over the hour-long period I was locked in with Natsume. No questions asked, I immediately obliged and dialed my mother's number. She picked up at the second ring.

"Hi, mom. You wanted to talk?"

She'd completely skipped through the pleasantries. How queer of her. Maybe it really was a matter of utmost urgency, after all.

"I'm sorry, could you please repeat—w-what?"

My voice quivered as I attempted to utter the words. With the tumultuous trembling of my hands, I was having difficulty holding on to my mobile. I could feel the energy being drained out of me, my life force being sucked out. My knees gravitated towards the floor until I collapsed atop them.

"Polka!" "Yukihira-san?"

I was crying again. These tears were not the result of being overjoyed. My eyesight began dimming, and my hearing fading. Two pairs of arms came beneath me, bearing the weight of my body. The last thing I remembered was rustling black plumes and adamantine orbs tinged by the opposing ends of the sevenfold in rainbows.

"It's a lie, isn't it? Right, Natsume? Hotaru? It has to be. My f-father...he can't be dead, right?"

 **-x-**

Chapter IX, done.

How was it? Cliché? Cruel? Disappointing?

What have I done? Must Izumi always die?

Again, reviews please. :)

 **TinyLaments**


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